The Tree Man

I woke this morning as I always do, lying on my right side looking out toward the lake. Usually, I wake long before the sun considers its appearance. Today was such a day. The sky was colored charcoal, like well worn asphalt, and everything is in silhouette. To my surprise, the tree man greets me once again. He's not quite the same as some leaves have blown away, altering his features somewhat. But he's there nonetheless. My heart is gladdened. This time I'm determined to figure out what makes him and how to position myself to find him. Noting the position of blinds and branches I rise triumphant for coffee. Later, returning in the light of day I lay in the same position. Despite knowing he's there he is difficult to spot with blue skies and various branches and leaves and colors. I've discovered that part of his features - nose and mouth - are actually created by a fern that sits in our sunroom. All those textures and colors compete for attention and make him nearly impossible to spot.

The starkness of silhouette is what makes him possible at all. The busyness of the day and brightness of colors turns the magic off, turning him back into bark and leaf, fern and branch. It's amazing what one can see in the quiet, when one's mind is silent, when you're still and not seeking. I't comforting to know that these simple things are there waiting for us. Like the Tree Man.

Autumn 2008

The leaves are mostly gone and tree branches are silhouettes in the gray skies these days. The other morning during the predawn I was lying on my side watching the lake wake up, all cozy beneath tons of blankets when I saw a man looking back at me. It wasn't a real man, but a tree man created by layers of leaves and branches in oaks and hickories between our house and the lake. His eye was very detailed with an iris and pupil and a perfect eyebrow. His hair was created by the filigreed tendrils of a shagbark hickory. There was the suggestion of a nose and the beautiful curve of his upper lip. He was very handsome, this tree man. His head was cocked as though resting upon a pillow. If I moved in the slightest the tree man would come undone, so I laid there as long as I could watching him watching me until my right side started tingling from lack of movement. I thought later that I would try to capture him with my camera, so I went back to the bedroom, laid down and tried to find him. He was gone. The wind was blowing by then and the leaves and branches were buffling about.

I'm not ready to let go of autumn. The golden hickories and red oaks and yellow maples and ragged buckeyes still call to me from my Autumn 2008 photo file. Hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

Impressions

I’m disturbed and pensive. Diane at Alberta Photography threw a question at us the other day which drew me up short. “Have you found your passions have shifted?”

I’m pensive because this year has found me seeking a new direction for myself in earnest. I’m disturbed because life continues on irregardless of my search and I’m not as far along in my quest as desired. Because I’d internalized Diane’s question my walk this morning was different. Birds and beasts went unnoticed as my head pointed down and my eyes were fixed on the pavement, mulling it all over.

Yes, and no, is the answer. Yes, my personal artistic and career passions have shifted. However, I have not had time to explore new personal pathways because there remains in the home a teenager, a daughter, my forever passion.

So, I’m walking and thinking. I even feel differently inside. My usual route takes me east toward the marina down a long winding sidewalk with cottages on one side and the lake, lake homes and common area on the other. Trees are nearly bare now, but a few oak leaves remain fluttering in the unstoppable wind off of the water. Suddenly, within the sidewalk I see these impressions.

Tiny sprouts grew into mature leaves that died and fell onto this sidewalk leaving their mark for eternity. They’re scattered about like the leaves that made them, these brown silhouettes of leaves that once slept in that spot. They’re beautiful, like paintings from God.

These particular leaves moved on but the impression they left remains and has changed the very surface upon which they fell forever. Such is true for people and relationships.

I think about my teenager who remains and pray that the impressions she receives and has received from us, from family and friends, and from others in her life fill her with hope and confidence. The impressions she’s receiving help shape her character as she matures into herself. Until such time as this passion moves on to college and her adult life my personal search will come, but slowly. I must be patient.

These simple impressions of leaves long gone are a powerful reminder to me that everything we do as a human being leaves an impression, an imprint, with someone or something. Our actions and words influence and cause effect, have impact, create reaction, and have consequences, forever. Nature is our teacher if we only but pay attention. I’ll continue to search for my personal passions but in the meantime the teenager remains. Thanks, Diane.

Snow!

Yesterday, it snowed off and on all day. Sometimes the flakes were huge, like flat, white Tiddly Winks floating down from the heavens. I ran out and took photos but mainly I ran around like a crazy woman laughing into the skies and catching the flakes on my tongue like I did as a child. We don't see snow often, and this was a safe snow without ice. Safe and soft and swift and it melted as soon as the flurry ended. It was perfect.

In these conditions of gray skies and white, soft fog this year's crop of possumhaw berries beam like headlights in the gloom. Our weather here hasn't been kind to these deciduous hollies the past few years, but for some reason the berries are the largest I've ever witnessed. They're huge, and there are so many clusters that the limbs are bowing down to the ground, and the trunks tremble with the weight of them.

The gold-berried possumhaw is striking this year but I've yet to take a photo to do it justice. The one above is unfortunately lit by the flash, which I forgot to turn off, but is pretty nonetheless.

The winterberry is the thickest of all. It will remain smaller than the others, and stay in a shrub shape. It is gorgeous with the Zebra grass backdrop. The larger ilex decidua was hard hit by an early frost a year ago and very nearly died. Most of its upper limbs are still without leaves and berries but what remains is still outstanding.

Traveling to Kansas City for Thanksgiving my job was to sit with Baylee in the backseat and keep her quiet and calm. Easier said than done. The best part of the job was looking out the window and observing the beautiful landscapes that flew by at 70mph. Somewhere in the northern part of Tennessee I saw a flash of brilliant red in the fence row. The native possumhaw! I internalized this, the magic of seeing the blood red berries flashing brightly in the low, vivid light of late autumn. Gazing without out really seeing, my eyes witnessed another flash of red, waking me from the daydream. Another possumhaw, the wild native standing out in a grove of sumac. Thus began the counting.

Through Tennessee then Kentucky I kept a running count in my head. They were sparse at first, the native possumhaws. One here, another there. I counted 9 when suddenly we came across a grove of them. Easily 10-12 possumhaws clustered in a group close to a fence row. I was astounded. Number 10 became #1 Possumhaw Grove. By St. Louis I'd seen 5-7 possumhaw groves and basically gave up the counting game. I also began seeing another red-berried shrub but the green leaves remained and the berries were not tightly bundled as with the possumhaws. These were everywhere, prominent and proud, hosting hoards of hungry birds. My host told me these were known as Inkberries. Way cool.

Having a passion for possumhaws may be sort of weird, but they fascinate me endlessly. Maybe it's just the name - possumhaw. Wikipedia reports that the berries were used by Native Americans for medicinal purposes, and the origin of the name "fever bush." Does anyone know why "possumhaw," the meaning of the word?

December 1, 2008

We are back home after enjoying the warmth and love of our first Thanksgiving ever spent in Kansas City, Missouri. Daughter Jessica hosted her first small gathering of family in her precious home located in some marvelous area of Kansas City - don't ask me where, but it's close to "The Plaza." We had a marvelous time just being together and doing simple things together, talking over morning coffee and evening wine. We walked the dogs (Baylee went, too), ate too much, drove too much, laughed tons, drank too much, walked a lot, and simply enjoyed being together. Thanksgiving evening found us smack dab in the middle of The Plaza to watch the Christmas lights being turned on. David Cook was said to be there, but we never spotted him.

Sunday morning dawned with snow on the ground but good road conditions. The scenery was beautiful, ethereal. However, eleven hours in the car with a whining dog made me want to kiss the ground when we finally pulled into the driveway last night. This morning on the lake low, dark clouds and grey waters were the backdrop for our first Bald Eagle sighting. Bob saw him first flying east, and I caught him heading west back to the nest. Hugging the shoreline, treetop height, this fellow was looking for a tasty meal.

Logging on this morning I see I've been tagged by Brett at 365 to 42! Apparently, I'm required to post six random things about me. Egad, and I'm late about it as well, so I'd best get cracking. Like I need to sit more, but here we go:

The Rules:
1) Link to the person who tagged you.
2) Post the rules on your blog (copy & paste 1-6)
3) Write 6 random things about yourself.
4) Tag 6 people at the end of your post and link to them.
5) Let each person know they have been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
6) Let the tagger know when your entry is up.

So, oky doky. Six random things about me, eh. I'll try to make this interesting.

A) I hate driving with shoes on.
B) I'm nearly hypnotized by the feel of huge amounts of dried beans or smooth pebbles in my hands.
C) I have every Beatles LP and 45, including imports.
D) My dream car is a 1960's Jaguar XKE
E) Once, I made an arrowhead.
F) A favorite activity is driving to nowhere, getting lost and exploring - I crave small, unmapped roads. (of course, with my camera)

I don't think these are very interesting, but there ya go. Obviously, I'm sort of a simple sort. (I also love maps, Brett, and have my Chatty Cathy doll!)

Oh, shoot....forgot to get all my peeps that I'm tagging...I'll be right back. Okay, I'm choosing some new friends from some new blogs that I've been lurking within, occasionally commenting on.

Rachel at Blue Algae Creative

Michaela at Floodwaters Photography

Kristin at Maine Momma

Kim at The Inadvertent Farmer

Jan at Thanks For 2 Day

Carla at Country Roads

I love these blogs and hope you all check 'em out. That's it for me - gotta go do laundry.

Ah, shoot...I forgot Rule #1 which was to link to Brett! Dang...here goes: Brett at 365 to 42:
http://365to42.blogspot.com/

Apparently, my brain may be too old for such as this!!! LOL! Enjoy my randomness, if possible.