In the Shadows of the Pin Oak

Sitting on the porch this morning, which feels like it could be the first morning, I am gleeful in the coolness, the return of spring after a brief incursion of summer. Enfolded in scents of honeysuckle flowers just opening and multiflora rose just fading I relish the greeness of trees swaying so lithely and supple, surrendered to the movement of the wind. 

Cardinals, chickadees, titmice, woodpeckers and the occasional rose-breasted grosbeak eat at the feeders and in the distance the ephemeral notes of a north-bound Swainson's thrush resting in our woodlands for a while. The warbler migration is almost finished, but the residents are busy with nest building and egg laying, still singing their individual sweet songs. 

A typical, if glorious, spring day...green of all that grows, blue of sky, golden sunlight falling in swaths upon the grass...and yet full of mystery and presence of the unseen. When looking into the clear, bright air they are invisible, but when looking into the backdrop of the pin oak across the road, thousands of moving particles are revealed as they reflect the light..pollen, dust, the fluff of sycamore seeds, tiny gnats and unidentified insects flitting through the air, far too many to begin to count. Everywhere but unseen unless gazing in exactly the right spot.

Life is all around, always, revealed by the Light even in the dark places. We are invited. Look for it.

Life and Death and Orange Jewels

My husband's 94 year old mother died last week, a sad and difficult woman in life and in death. I am weary and so this morning I needed the woodland's embrace and there I found the refreshment and the solace I knew were waiting for me. I went looking for life, life in all its fullness, life of the forest floor - creatures, plants, fungi...all of it. 

On the short bank beside the woodland road, I came across a colony of tiny, bright orange mushrooms, themselves feeding on decaying matter...matter that is no longer alive, but giving life to these jewels of the forest. 

And in the distance, stood what first appeared to be a lone white mushroom... 

... standing like a single sentry guarding its place in the leaf litter. 

However, upon closer inspection, I realized that I had almost stepped on its nearly invisible companion of a different species, a couple of feet away. 

Two different species of fungi, quietly going about the work they were given to do, decomposing fallen leaves and branches, returning nutrients to the soil. Perhaps their mychorriza mysteriously co-mingle beneath the duff as they coil around tree roots, providing the giants greater access to needed water and minerals and a means of communication, tree to tree.

I have been thinking about death during these last few weeks and about its effect on those who are left behind, for death is never a solitary event. If we give ourselves to its effect, even in our agitation and deep sense of loss, over time we will be deepened and made acutely aware of and sensitive to that which is still alive...still alive in us, in those we care about, in the order of the natural world. I find the encouragement of God in the life of the fungi, strange as that might seem at first glance. They demonstrate that there is far more to each individual than what might be visibly recognized. Though their above-ground fruiting bodies wither away in due time, their life continues on in mystery, hidden away in where they can no longer be seen. And, because of fungi's role, though individual plants and creatures die, their life is never completely ended, for it is always recycled for the well being of another.  

In this season of coming face to face, again, with the reality of death I am reminded, again, of the abundance of life and my grateful participation in it. 

Hope

Rainy, soggy January interlude before the coming freeze,
not what I would call a beautiful day.
But, here I am alive, with faculties to search out beauty
and the bit of green I need to make it until spring.
With chilled hands, cold water running down my back,
I part the leaves to find the treasures.
Foamflower, Jacob's ladder and Virginia waterfleaf,
vibrant against the browns,
winter no match for their tenacity. 

It doesn't look like much, a dried-up flower stalk from a small, last-season planted oak-leaf hydrangea,
reminder of what was and what will be.
Memory stirs imagination to recall the late-summer brightness in the shady shadows of my front yard.
Last to put out new leaves in spring, 
reminder that beneath all appearances,
we hope not in vain.

A few tiny, almost insignificant, catkins,
first of this hazelnut's young life.
Enough to pollinate the even
more obscure female flowers as they open,
a few months from now?
No matter, for growth happens at its
own pace, in its own time. Sometimes faltering, 
sometimes subject to forces beyond its control,
always moving toward the promise of fecundity,
sending its offspring out into the world.

The Least of These

I have been thinking about juxtaposition, "the act or instance of placing side by side, especially for comparison or contrast", lately. Every day I sadly read of the incoming administration's new instances of assault on the land, disregard for people and utter disdain for decency and the dignity of life. But, every day, I also delight in walks through the woods, the birds at the feeders, the play of sunlight on holly leaves and the rustling of persistent beech leaves in the wind. On the one hand, discouragement at what feels like encroaching darkness, and on the other, gratitude for witnessing life and light, in all its seemingly simple day to day normalcy.  

Lately, I have also been pondering my place in this world and what my contributions to it have been and might be. I tend to measure myself against the efforts of the people who do "big things" for good which, of course, leaves me feeling considerably lacking and is a decidedly unhelpful attitude. Still, I long to make a difference...

 It was in answer to that longing that some well-known words and a new hedgerow planting intersected into the affirmation that my intentions and efforts are valuable, possibly life-changing. The hedgerow is a mix of black chokeberry and still-fruiting winterberry bushes, the latter being visited daily by a migrant hermit thrush from the north. It was while watching the thrush eat that Jesus' words came to me, "For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat. I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in..." 

I realized that all the kindnesses that I extend, be it toward creatures who come to live out a part of their lives in the back yard, or fellow jury panelists with whom I recently spent a day, or a neighbor who needs a listening ear, or a roadside that needs to be cleared of the trash of too many careless passersby....all those kindnesses combine into opportunities for healing, healing for me, as well as others. It is in the doing what I can do, and the trusting to God what I cannot manage that will allow me to live, if not always at peace, at least with the gratitude that I have been able to give to the world what is mine to give, hopefully, for the blessing of all.