At the Maple Tree Watering Hole

There's a hollow in the maple tree out front,
where an old branch died
and dropped off.

When it rains,
the hollow fills with water,
and all the neighborhood birds
come to partake.

Fun to watch them
tilting to drink
right outside the dining room window.

Growing Up with Tarzan

On weekends in my childhood,
we would sometimes visit my mother's parents
who lived on a farm in rural north Florida.

I can remember spending Saturday mornings
watching old Tarzan movies
with my grandfather
on their little black and white TV.

I didn't know at the time
that many of those movies
were filmed at Silver Springs,
not an hour away from where we sat.

Was it the black and white
or just my ability to believe
that kept me from recognizing the jungles
of my own home state?

(These pictures come from Leesburg, FL, taken last February at a camp counselor reunion.)
 

Value Added

I'm trying to cut back
on watching TV,
surfing the internet,
even reading books.


When I am doing one of those things,
I am perhaps staying out from under foot
and not causing trouble,
but neither am I contributing to the world around me.

I'm trying to figure out
more ways each day
to add beauty,
kindness,
creativity
and something interesting
to a world full of noise and clutter and meanness.

Even if it just means sharing
a picture in the woods
celebrating that spring does come
whether we watch for it or not.

I will ask, not for guilt or pressure,
but simply as a reminder
and some focus:
as my presence here added anything worthwhile
to the world today?

Public Spaces

 

Sick days at home often stimulate blogging.
I know this from spending much of yesterday
breathing through my mouth
and reading through blog entries
going back six years.

Another thing I realized
was how many of the pictures
I treasure and share
come from
places we own together.

State parks, national parks,
public land and forests.
Even the privately owned places,
like the Shaker Village in Kentucky,
are held in trust
so that the public can visit, learn and enjoy.

It turns out that together,
we share an incredible wealth
of views, hiking trails,
winding roads and places of beauty.
How rich we are, my friends!
How very rich!

Craggy Gardens Hike, May 2011

This has been
one of the most beautiful falls
in recent memory.
Which, of course,
leads me to post
lovely pictures from spring.

I was very excited when I took these shots
at the prospect of sharing
this vivid green
on the blog.

It took me a while to get around to posting.
But the spring green is worth the wait.

And perhaps,
as we drift towards winter,
this green is just what the doctor ordered.

A Well Rounded Blog

According to a recent
New Yorker cartoon*
most blogs consist of

"1/3 stories about crap
somebody cooked, knitted or sewed;
1/3 self-promotion
and 1/3 conspiracy theories."

The cartoon awakened me to a basic fact.
I am way behind on my
share of conspiracy theories.

I just happened to come up with one
on my way to church this morning,
which I will now share with
a public in need of some
new paranoia.

In North Carolina there is a roundish
brown, garden eating mammal
called a groundhog.
(Click here for pictures)
We did not have them in Florida.
Apparently they are
NC's answer to armadillos.

You'll see them as you drive around town
perched on the side of the road,
facing traffic
making little chewing motions with their mouths
but always right there on the very curb
with their nose practically under the cars.

I couldn't figure why an animal,
much less an entire breed of animals
would perch so precariously
with cars whooshing by
and threatening their fuzzy existance.

Finally I realized:
they are not mammals at all.
They are electronic devices set there
to monitor us in our cars,
disguised as mild mannered
fuzzy brown garden destroyers.

I know some ground hogs are real
and a real pain in the patooty
if you are growing your own veggies.

But those omnipresent roadside hogs...
they are machines,
put there by The Man
keeping us under
his controlling eye.

Beware of both kinds.

*September 26, 2011, The New Yorker, page 90, "Blog Breakdown" cartoon.

Ode to Spanish Moss

One of the ways
I know am near my original stomping grounds
in the heart of north Florida
is to look to the trees
for the gentle drapery of Spanish Moss.

These pictures almost seem
like black and white photography,
but they are color shots on a cloudy day.

The gray of the plant
covers a green interior,
life within something that looks
not quite so living.

Gentle breezes add a certain
living movement,
but one beyond the plant's control.

While I love my home in North Carolina,
I have to visit the land of moss
(or more accurately, the land of angiosperm)
on occasion to set things right with my soul.

(Photos from the Warren W. Willis camp in Leesburg, FL, taken last February).

More on Spanish Moss