Rorschach inkblot test
still, what do you see
no orange no longer here
these trees marked for life
Somehow it is seven o’clock and the daylight’s fading fast.
Here I am , still wearing the running togs I wore on the trails this morning, hair a mess and body somewhat odiferous. In between that run and this blog post, I did some stuff, mostly little bits of this and some of that. But instead of feeling anxiety at the end of such a piecemeal day, I’m at peace.
Who knows where the time goes? Who cares?
I like to take the time out to listen to the trees,
much in the same way that I listen to a sea shell,
holding my ear against the rough bark of the trunk,
hearing the inner singing of the sap.
It’s a lovely sound, the beating of the heart of the tree. ~ Madeleine L’Engle
While walking around our neighborhood this morning, we — Zippy, Wildebeest, Emma, and I — spotted what seemed to be a tiny bird’s nest dangling from the branch of a tree. Zippy went closer to investigate and declared it a seed pod. And after searching the ground below the tree, he brought us a sample.
We’d never seen anything like this . . . outside a Mexican restaurant. Using my keen online research skills, I typed in “bean pod that looks like taco” and learned this seed pod comes from a Kentucky Coffeetree. Who knew? Here’s a better shot of the interior that looks an awful lot like lettuce and/or guacamole, and enormous black beans:
As if that wasn’t enough natural wonder for our outing, there were also plenty of ice formations to admire along the way . I took this photo at the end of our driveway.
We’re supposed to get a bunch of snow tomorrow and again on Wednesday so I’m grateful for the blue skies and balmy temperatures of the past several days. Also? I’m exceedingly grateful that today’s High Wind Warning did NOT result in 80-mph gusts.
This post is inspired by Melanie at the blog The Nature-Led Life (shout-out to Mark at Naturalist Weekly for putting this cool experiment on my radar). While Melanie was reading The Book of Trees: Visualizing Branches of Knowledge by Manuel Lima, the phrase “from her heart grows a tree” came to her. Melanie wrote about it on her blog (that post is “the trunk”) and invited others to contribute “branches” by posting on our blogs something that includes “from her heart grows a tree” (Melanie hopes to make a visual tree of all contributions and the deadline to contribute is Aug 2, midnight PST)
This is my “branch.”
I remember standing in these aspens two years ago, my heart expanding as I gazed up, up, up at this tree reaching for the blue sky. However, aspens are not only magnificent above ground, but also below, because groups of aspen share a root system. A system one might imagine as an enormous “beating heart” below ground.
“From her heart grows a tree.”
Her heart connecting with mine.
Because of Amy Law’s beautiful post, I learned today is National Nature Photography Day. But it’s also Tuesday, which means I need to do it up twofer-style.
First up are a Western Kingbird and Black-capped Chickadee:
Next are two trees I can’t identify except that one appears dead and the other is maybe not-so-dead?
Lastly, I can’t forget my love for ponds:
Obviously, these aren’t the most professional photos. However, they’re a good sampling of my aesthetic.
Hip-hip-hooray for nature!
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
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.)
Uprooted by wind
felled by slashing chain saw teeth
final resting place
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
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.
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.
Partially clad limbs
but mostly naked branches
too many cold snaps