Our local post office had a beautiful Norfolk pine in its lobby.  For a long time (several years) it was a flourishing tree. It must have liked the the light it was getting in that spot.  Then it started losing branches and started dying.  There seemed nothing our postmaster could do about it.  Once a branch becomes brittle and breaks off it is too late.  Some of the branches were still healthy.  Finally it died.  I had the image in my head how healthy it once (???).  I felt so bad when she took it out of there.  She suspects it got over watered.  It was so beautiful once.  And now its dead.  I just felt bad for it.

The hawk just watched me pass from his perch.  I had spotted the hawk an hundred feet away fly toward me, cross the road and alight on top of a yellow traffic sign on my right only ten feet from me and from that vantage point viewed me passing him in my car.  The hawk was the size of a red tailed hawk although I really was not sure what kind it was.  I thought it was odd behavior although I know they like watching things from higher perches and there were no trees in the immediate area.

I never paid any attention to it. The big trees in our yard are all white pines. The one in front of our window we hang bird feeders from and see a constant parade of visitors. But that is not the tree I am going to talk about. There is a gigantic white pine outside our large wooden fence. Lately I would occasionally stare at it realize (???) it could be over an hundred years old. It is massive, easily the oldest tree on our property. I have lived here ten years and never paid much attention to it. It is massive and might have seen the beginning of the twentieth century. It is definitely older than me. I could only guess at its age. It is a treasure on our property and all I can do is occasionally walk back there and open my mouth in awe and stare at it and peer at all its gnarled branches and imagine its age.

Union Square In San Francisco is an oasis in a sea of concrete.  There are all kinds of plants, trees and bushes and flowers.  There are few trees or flowers around it.  I was at the Cafe there and was amazed when a hummingbird zoomed in and out some flowers nearby.  All kind of questions came up.  Does it live in that area.  And if it doesn’t, where did it come from?  There simply were not many flowers nearby.  To me it was a little miracle the hummingbird found Union Square–an oasis to it.  Life is full of little miracles.  And the appearance of the hummingbird was one.  Every day miracles occur.  We just have to open our eyes and be receptive.  Miracles are not always earth shattering.

It has been snowing for awhile and everything is white.  The snow is a wet, heavy one.  I have never seen our lilac bush so bent.  I am not going anywhere so I might as well enjoy the scenery viewed from my back and front window.  The branches of trees are all bent by the weight of the snow.  It is only an half a dozen times a year I might see the white landscape.  I made sure my bird feeder was full this morning with sunflower seed.  I know the birds have to forage a little harder in the snow but they have to eat, too.

The spring has arrived.  Everything has become green.  Most of the deciduous trees the leaves have come out although there are some late bloomers.  Some trees are only budding.  Spring is almost at the halfway mark.  And there are occasional days where it has skipped the season and went straight into summer but then it becomes cooler again and we know it is still spring.  I inspect my garden every day to see the next bloom of the year.  And then share the discovery with my Other.  Spring is the season of discoveries.  And I always like sharing the latest.  The hummingbird arrived on Easter only last week.  This time my wife spotted the bird first.  I love watching them sip nectar from our feeder.  And fend off other hummingbirds who invade their territory.

When I woke up and looked outside our large living room window everything was blanketed by white.  The trees, ground were all covered by white.  In fact, it was a wet snow.  It was just cold enough to snow last night.  The branches of our large white pine in front of our window were bowed down by the weight of the snow.  There were some broken branches lying on the ground.

This was a rough year for that pine tree.  It lost several large branches during at least three storms.  I immediately put out more birdseed when I got up.  This may be the last snowstorm of the year so I took a long look at all the trees and ground.  I may not see such a scene until next year.  It was March 7, so it is possible we may get another such storm but the days were getting warmer and warmer.  This storm had taken us by surprise.

The Edge Of Country

Author: siggy

I have always lived at the edge of country.  Of course, some people are more divorced from it if they are surrounded by concrete but it is always there you just have to look a little harder.

Growing up I watched my mother plant vegetables and flowers and other things.  We had a mulberry and fig and apricot tree and some of the biggest blackberries I have ever seen.

It was a small plot of land but she tilled it well.  We had fresh string beans and tomatoes.  She loved roses.  The garden was a place she could disappear in.  And she often did for hours.

We lived in a bustling little city but that garden we had was an introduction to many things.  I learned to love deep red stemmed roses.

On weekends my father brought us into the country, mountains and shore but most of my life I lived in the edge of country.  I learned to appreciate what came my way.

Today I still love birds.  I have several bird feeders that I can view from our large living room windows and watch a steady parade of chickadees and titmouse and woodpeckers just to name a few.

It all started in Mom’s garden and the weekend trips we took as a family.  I learned to love the mountains and trees and lakes and and so many other things.

I felt sorry for the maple sapling.  It was lying there still alive prone to the ground.  It was between four and five feet tall and eighteen inches from the border.  My wife did not say anything but I must have run it over backing into the driveway.

We did not plant it.  Mother nature did.  It was really not growing in a good spot.  Eventually it was (???) interfere with the electrical wires above.  All that did not make a difference.  I was responsible for running it over.  I did not know what to do with it.  And every time I looked at it I was reminded of my carelessness.  I just felt bad.

Every time I glance out my kitchen window onto the backyard and woods I am awed.  There is mystery there. Toads, turtles and cottontails live back there.  And I do not know what else.

Today everything is white and there is calm.  The snow is falling.  If I look carefully, I often see birds alight on some of the bushes.  It is wild back there.

Two summers ago I discovered a large raspberry patch in the corner of my property.  My wife made at least two pies from the berries I picked that year.

I love looking at the symmetry of the trees, how they placed themselves.  I know there is a higher power.  And every time I look at (???) that window I am assured of that fact.

There is a tiny creek back there which sometimes goes dry but the gully it created is at least six inches tall so it has been there for awhile.

Every once in a while I tramp around never certain what I will find.  I love surprises although they generally occur when I am not looking for them.  It is a piece of our property I love. I never know exactly what I will find.

It is wild and I want to keep it that way.  I hate manicured lawns.  I do not know why people are so proud of them.  And work so hard to keep them that way.  To me, it is an exercise in futility. I certainly don’t envy their neat lawns. I just love looking out my window.

I noticed the small pine tree in the pot outside near the driveway.  It was only three inches tall.  I wanted to transplant it on my property–somewhere I would remember and see how big it grew.  And then remember how small it once was.

All trees were once seeds strewn in the wind.  This property bought by my wife almost thirty years ago was barren and now the bushes are gigantic and woods and grass and trees are all over.  The land surrounding the house is no longer bare.

I wanted to see how much time the Lord afforded me.  I wanted to observe this small pine growing up and see if I could remember when it was this small.  At the beginning of the twentieth century the United States was denuded of much of its forests.

And they grew back.  I wanted to see how much time I would have.  I want to watch this small tree grow tall.

There is something peaceful about a snowstorm.  Everything is white–the trees the roads-everything.  I know I am not going anywhere.  There is nothing I need except my electricity.  Even if that went out I would simply bring out my candles.

At this point I do not know how long it will snow.  The flakes are tiny so I know the snowfall will be appreciable.  I will just wait it out and enjoy it.  Perhaps take a walk in it and glory in God’s handiwork.  Or just look out my windows.  And enjoy my wife’s company.