The Silence of Sycamores in Winter

You can almost hear the absence of sound...

it speaks of winter sleep,

and waiting;

the in-drawn breath of precious life force

 the close-held silence

 of nothing wasted.

The Sycamore
~ Wendell Berry

In the place that is my own place, whose earth
I am shaped in and must bear, there is an old tree growing,
a great sycamore that is a wondrous healer of itself.
Fences have been tied to it, nails driven into it,
hacks and whittles cut in it, the lightning has burned it.
There is no year it has flourished in
that has not harmed it. There is a hollow in it
that is its death, though its living brims whitely
at the lip of the darkness and flows outward.
Over all its scars has come the seamless white
of the bark. It bears the gnarls of its history
healed over. It has risen to a strange perfection
in the warp and bending of its long growth.
It has gathered all accidents into its purpose.
It has become the intention and radiance of its dark fate.
It is a fact, sublime, mystical and unassailable.
In all the country there is no other like it.
I recognize in it a principle, an indwelling
the same as itself, and greater, that I would be ruled by.
I see that it stands in its place and feeds upon it,
and is fed upon, and is native, and maker.

I hope you all had a blessed and joyful holiday, my dear friends, wherever you are.

A Long Goodbye

My yard was once an ash grove, full of majestic, mature trees that graced us with their beauty and cool shade.

The largest one, a huge old tree next to the deck in the back yard, was my favorite.

Because of it, the deck was shaded almost the entire day. I used to work out here for hours on end, making sculptures from grapevines and copper.

 

For the dogs, it made a lovely, cool place to rest up after a strenuous game of  "keep-away-fetch"...

 and for the birds, a perfect spot for their favorite cafe.


But last summer, we noticed the ash trees were not doing well, and this spring they looked even worse. The tree dude (I think the proper term is arborist?) confirmed my worst fears: it was emerald ash borer, and the trees were already beyond help. In case you're not familiar with this problem, here's a short explanation from Wikipedia: "Agrilus planipennis, is a green beetle native to Asia and Eastern Russia. Outside its native region, the emerald ash borer is an invasive species, and Emerald ash borer infestation is highly destructive to ash trees in its introduced range... larvas' bore holes essentially disrupt the flow of nutrients as they rise up the trunk from the roots to the crown via the phloem (the tree's vascular structures) just under the bark. This eventually results in the death of the tree. This can take place over a number of years, and the first noticeable sign is usually some die back in the crown of the tree. The tree will usually be dead by the following year or soon after. In areas where the insect is invasive and has no natural predators, it can and usually does have a devastating effect on the local ash tree population." My trees would have to be cut down, and for the ones near the house, the sooner the better.

I was very upset.  In fact, the lush forest-like yard was one of the primary factors in my decision to buy the house 25 years ago, and I had come to regard the trees as dear friends. People just didn't seem to get it, though. One person suggested that I should, "grow up and get over it", but it's taking longer than I thought it would. I'm working on it.


When I was working on my BFA, we had to keep sketchbooks for virtually every class. Here's a sketch I drew of my favorite tree- well, part of it- the whole drawing wouldn't fit on the scanner.

After I'd finished sketching it, my daughter, who was then about 5, pointed at the tree and said, "Mommy, you forgot something."  I hadn't included the swing in my drawing, and it was very important to her. When my children were too small to get on by themselves, I used to sit on the swing with one of them facing me on my lap, put my arm around them, and swing them as high as I dared. So I added the swing, to please my daughter, and because it reminded me of the happiness I'd felt then.

We had the 3 ash trees nearest the house cut down, and sadly, this is that tree in its current condition. The trunk is 40 inches in diameter- too big to fit through the portable saw mill we hired to cut the trunks into boards.

The yard is almost totally cleaned up now; a couple of weeks ago, the whole thing looked like this.

The saw mill was pretty amazing, though. Here, he's adjusting the log to make sure it's in the proper position.

Here, the blade is just clearing the end of the log.

And here's what our garage looks like right now.


I am learning to say goodbye; it's just going to take some time...

Still a Freak

A friend of mine recently referred to me as a "tree freak."  It was not an insult, he was just alluding to the fact that we both love these beautiful, huge, sacred beings.  It would be hard to think of a higher compliment.  Allow me to introduce you to some of my newest friends.

Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world.  ~John Muir

Trees outstrip most people in the extent and depth of their work for the public good.  ~Sara Ebenreck, American Forests

I willingly confess to so great a partiality for trees as tempts me to respect a man in exact proportion to his respect for them.  ~James Russell Lowell

Trees are poems that earth writes upon the sky,
We fell them down and turn them into paper,
That we may record our emptiness.
~Kahlil Gibran

God has cared for these trees, saved them from drought, disease, avalanches, and a thousand tempests and floods.  But he cannot save them from fools.  ~John Muir

The trees are whispering to me, reminding me of my roots, and my reach... shhhhhh... can you hear them?  Selflessly sharing their subtle song.  ~Jeb Dickerson, www.howtomatter.com

Only when the last tree has died and the last river been poisoned and the last fish been caught will we realize we cannot eat money.  ~Cree Indian Proverb

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
~Joyce Kilmer, "Trees," 1914

Good Things About Winter

 I have to admit it- I'm not really a big fan of winter. Where I live, winter is made of gray skies, ugly brown hills, and mud (if it's not below freezing).  Snow is pretty, and sometimes gets me a day off from work (yay!), but we don't get much of that.  I don't do well without adequate light, and cold weather just makes me want to curl up and hibernate.

So, I'm trying to learn to go with the flow, because, obviously, I can't fight it.   I probably won't exactly fall in LOVE with it, but my goal is to at least accept winter with a modicum of grace.  Or, if that proves impossible, to stop whining about it quite so much.  To that end, I decided to make a list of the good things about winter.

1.  You don't have to mow the lawn.  (Okay, that one's really lame, I agree.)

 

 

2.  Snow is pretty amazing; it makes the world look fresh and clean, like a brand new sheet of paper.

  
3.  It gives the trees and other plants a chance to rest.

4.  Bare branches look lovely against the sky.

5.  It makes Spring seem so magical when it finally arrives.

6.   A cozy fire in the fireplace is deliciously  enjoyable.

7.  With not as much to do outside, I have more time, when I'm home, to make art. 

8.  It gives me this great opportunity to become more open and to grow as a person.   Hahaha!  Well, I'm making an effort, anyway.  I'm sure I'll think of more good things about winter, and when I do, I'll let you know! 

I the meantime, don't forget to stop by The Altered Page for more of Seth's

 

Golden

The trees have been especially colorful this year, putting on a spectacular farewell show. Yesterday, it rained- hard. What this means, for those of you who live in other climates, is that many of the beautiful leaves will be knocked to the ground; end of show. And this is what happened, sort of.

It rained and rained and rained, the skies gray, the colors blah. Suddenly, there was a break between storms. I grabbed my camera and ran outside, and here's the sight that greeted me. (These photos were not enhanced- these are the true colors that dazzled my eyes.)





Everything sparkled and shimmered.



The grass was covered with a yellow carpet. The trees glowed as if imbued with their own inner light.





The sunlight had turned the whole world...



golden.

Earth Day

So much has been said about Earth Day, and I am just one voice amongst the world of YouTube, CNN, etc. So all i will say is this:


Enough has been said. DO something.

Night Trees Meet Sky