Peripatetic philomaths…focusing on what's really important, eating ethically and cleanly, fermenting, foraging/wildcrafting, practicing herbalism, and being responsible stewards of our land. Sharing our photos, musings, and learnings. Still seeking our tribe.
Through the vicissitudes of life, when uncertainty and turmoil further erode the fragile veneer of civilization, the trees stand watch. They were here before us and will be here after us. Despite our (humans’) attempts to destroy them – cutting, burning, poisoning – they persist. I celebrate them, bathing in their resilience and quiet energy, and I’m thankful that there are still trees to be enjoyed.
Now may be an opportune moment to spend some time with a gentle arboreal giant…may you find peace in these trying times.
I love the pine trees that grow on our property. There aren’t many, and they’re old and look like they’ve had difficult lives, but they’re stunning, nonetheless. The gnarled, raised bark begs to be touched…but for the pitch! For me, the smell of warm pine needles and pitch evoke good memories of camping in the mountains in the summer, surrounded by towering pines and the most heavenly clean air. Thank you, trees, for playing such a vital part in humans’ survival on this planet!
For those who like hidden meanings…do you know someone like this, whose scars and evidence of suffering are visible? And, even in a society that places such importance on physical beauty, is a truly lovely individual?
If you have hedge apple trees (also called Osage Orange), you know about the long, sharp thorns. It makes sense that it was once used as natural fencing – who or what would dare push through that? Having tangled with it more than once, I keep this particular tree pruned back so that none of the spines are at eye level (!), yet leave enough branches to create an aerial predator-unfriendly shelter for the fowl (though those thorns can also get stuck in their feet and result in bumblefoot). I consider this a truce of sorts, being extremely loath to cut down any trees.
For those who like to look for hidden meanings in poetry – as I do – perhaps this poem could also be metaphorical. Who knows?
I’ve lived in homes in two different states where when I first moved in, I had views of a verdant pasture with beautiful horses. At each, however, the horses disappeared within a couple of years, the properties sold for “development”. Sad, the price of development; sadder still is what happens to the properties that were once so green and humming with life.
Though they weren’t mine and I never actually met them, I miss seeing the horses. I remember the mare that used to live in the former pasture above, running with her white mane flying. I think her name was “Ellie” – a name shared by my Muscovy drake, and when I’d call for him, she’d come galloping. Itmust have been a bit confusing to her – why was I always calling her name? She may not be there anymore, but she gallops still in my mind’s eye.
As green spaces are eaten up by “development”, I wonder where all the wild creatures that used to call those places home will go. Where can they go?
An arborist once told us that the big Silver Maple (that I like to think of as the guardian of this property) could be a hundred plus years old. How the world has changed in those years, including the land surrounding the stately tree…but the tree has many more years to live, so what seems like a long lifetime in human years may just be middle age for the tree. With a life expectancy of, say, 200 years, human perspective would surely be altered.
I’m spellbound by a tall Silver Maple tree that seems to keep watch over our property. This morning, the dawn sky was all soft colors, the shadowy tree standing steadfast against the pink and lavender backdrop…an arboreal guardian.