Archives for posts with tag: spring

Some of the blossoms have five petals opening to pollinators and bright yellow stamens offering pollen to the world. Others have lost their petals and their stamens have reddened, no longer singing to the bees.

I want to share what I see. I’m always hoping that someone else will get it. That my exploration will also be communication, existing in an overlapping sphere of perception and awareness. I sometime fail, and so a brilliant silence is held in my heart.

Maples are home; I grew up with four Norway Maples guarding the corners of the backyard.  One was also the swing tree; I found both wild freedom and peace swinging under that Maple. When it went down, my childhood sense of harmony and security shook.

Yesterday I walked around looking at tree buds and flowers, surrounded by all of the other corona virus social separation refugees. There were more than a few riding running talking yelling children with no school day on a school day.

I saw spectacular tree flowers. Many tree flowers are easy to miss: small and inconspicuous, pollinated by wind with no need for large showy petals, bright insect attracting colors and sweet fragrances.  Some, like the Magnolia, break that generalization down completely, and some, like the Red Maple fall somewhere in-between. Small but full of colorful splendor. And powerful in their symmetry.

I hope others are finding comfort, peace and inspiration in the beauty of Spring Equinox.

Happy Spring!

This has been a difficult Winter in New England. More for wildlife than for us. Snow storms kept coming, taking away heat, food sources, shelter, water. I ran into some of those that didn’t make it along the muddy river… a Black Duck and a Mallard.IMG_1538IMG_1152  One day after passing those past, I entered the museum and saw Kathe Kollwitz’s sculpture of a young girl in death’s grip.  Later I walked outside, by the river, and saw a female Mallard, looking very weak, with a male staying close and seeming to support her along.IMG_1308IMG_1309. Winter is a time of loss. Those that don’t die may hibernate or remain dormant. After loss, sometimes there is a pause before new life emerges. This pause, between Winter and Spring, is for some the most challenging time. It is when we feel the loss, but the new life seems still abstract and elusive. I think this is the time that we need to let our dreams burn bright… let ourselves be completely immersed in what is clear, deep and ready to flower inside us. Barbara Kingsolver writes,” The sky was too bright and the ground so unreliable, she couldn’t look up for very long. Instead her eyes held steady on the fire bursts of wings reflected across water….” Here’s to the hopes and dreams…  we can let them grow strong inside us.  Spring and its fertile ground will soon be ready to welcome animals, plants and our truest dreams to live and flourish.