The Gift of Trees

 Of all the poems I learned in high school,

I think I shall never see one lovely as a tree. 

A mother tree lifting her arms to pray. 

It is in these liminal spaces of my mind that poems slip through, like Joyce Kilmer's poem on "Trees" 

 "A tree that looks at God all day, and lifts her leafy arms to pray." I find these trees reaching out to me on country roads, in parks and walks along cement sidewalks. I talk to them when the moment arises, especially while on the golf courses that I have traversed. 

Rest in Peace dear tree
(d. 2021) 

More than any one piece of literature, Kilmer's poem left an imprint on my soul. Though Kilmer doesn't speak of laughter and grace, I find that the trees have their way of dancing with their arms, bringing smiles to our faces. (This pine tree must have had seeds that saw the Native American dancers weaving gracefully.)

With the New Year beginning and worn out worries of 2024 fading into the twilight I wanted to close the year with the beauty I sense daily from the trees. 

"A tree that in summer wears a nest of robins in her hair;"

We are fortunate that our robins never leave us in Oklahoma. We are no longer the treeless prairie as once described by the pioneers. Our trees are filled with blue jays, finches, doves, hawks, cardinals, crows, grackles and so much more. 

"Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain." 

Trees see, feel, and communicate in ways we cannot imagine. Do they weep when their arms drop in storms or a low blow from mankind? I believe they must, but it is their resiliency that I respect. 

Before we left Kansas I stopped to take a picture of this tree. A tree that withstood God knows what. For the eighteen years I traveled north and south on Monroe street through storms, ice, spring rains and dusty winds that tree stood proudly. I named her Liberty.  

I miss our black rich soil of Kansas and the blooming trees of spring, yet,  I relish the Sugar Maples and Bradford Pears in the fall when they turn from greens to yellows, oranges and reds. We watch as our Bradford Pears hold on to half-dried leaves hanging limply in the autumn winds until at last the grasses are hidden by  soft shades of red under the trees.

"A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed against the earth's sweet flowing breast:"

How is it that one line can mean so much when we see it actually happening right before our eyes. Life is so full of delight and surprise. 

Her home is hidden in Governor Dodge State Park,
Dodgeville,  Wisconsin

Once a year a tree in our neighborhood brings awe and joy to those who find him. He dresses in glowing white lights and casts his eyes upon us with a guiding light to all.  May you all enjoy the gift of our trees in the days and years to come. 

"Poems are made by fools like me,

but only God can make a tree." 

Reflections on Cool Clear Sunday

Storms flew through last night with no damage to report, thank heavens. 

Talking to a friend the other day, I made the comment, "I'm still mad at myself for not going to the
National Cowboy and Western History Museum to see the Spiro Mounds exhibit when it was there this last winter.  I know I had good excuses, but I really wanted to see it." 

Missing out on events bothers me more now than ever. I may not have another opportunity to see that exhibit. The feelings became rather visceral in me as I pondered how to live the next thirty years of my life. Yes, I'm an optimist and have plans for this one wild and precious life, that poet Mary Oliver so aptly described. She also wrote:

"Instructions for living a life.

Pay attention.

Be astonished.

Tell about it."

I want to remember LIFE and LIVING, and it would help if I started with yesterday, or what was I thinking about doing before I sat down to write?? This is how and why I began this weekly column: Reflections on a Rainy Summer Sunday

The Trails Golf Course, Norman

Three of us played golf Saturday, and noticed four baby mallards wandering around without mother nearby.  A couple of hundred yards away lay their dead mother mallard  Dead from hitting the power lines, not an errant golf ball.  Her neck was broken and our hearts cried.  When we drove by there an hour later no one had removed her body. So with prayers in our hearts, I walked over, picked her cold body up with a towel, then carried her to a graveyard of tall grasses.  "Bless her gentle soul, dear Lord, and watch after her babies." 

I know this is nature as it is meant to be.  Many times in my childhood I recall my father bringing home a nest of wild baby bunnies  We worked so hard to save them,, but wild bunnies are not meant for children and neighborhoods without fences.  

How sad, I think, what life must be for children and parents living in Afghanistan, and other parts of the warring world.

First bite of the season.

The best news of the week is that our garden burst open with fresh tomatoes. I know it is truly summer when I can eat our very own tomatoes while standing over the sink to make my juicy mess, like eating watermelon. 

I picked the rhubarb and made two pies. Yummy yummy sweet and tart. My first rhubarb pie since I left Kansas. 

The Norman Art Walk always brings delight, even more so when Jack and I are joined by Leah and Bobby. We began the evening at The Depot, where Jack and I were truly impressed with the artwork of Joey Frisillo from Tulsa.

Landscapes by Joey Frisillo, of Tulsa

She remarked about how much she likes our Oklahoma winters, and the friendly atmosphere.  Secretly, that makes me proud when people who have traveled and lived elsewhere make positive comments about living here.

Jack Chapman, The Bone Blossom
Prophecy

Then we discovered in the basement of Scratch, a restaurant with fine food and fresh drinks, a new room called the Speakeasy without the smoke and gangsters. We relaxed awhile with a drink in the cool quiet area. 

Over several thousand steps later we meandered through art walls of various pieces, people enjoying the cool evening outside, food trucks, dogs both large and tiny, delicious German food at Das Boot, Apple Tree Chocolates, and more art.  

WAIT WAIT...WHAT ABOUT ME?

I went to the doctor place this week . I weigh 24.6 pounds. That's like a lot, but then the man showed me a big dog (standard poodle) that had my color of hair. He said I might be that big someday. Letty made a funny sound.

Usually, all I hear from her is "OFF"  "STOP"  "NO!"  I listen and I try to not scratch and jump, and bite, but I want to be a flyboy when I grow up. I want to leap off couches, jump over tables, fly over gardens, and run faster than rabbits. I can already dig a hole to China, whatever that means. She says that if I don't learn to "come" when they call me then I will have to go to doggie school. My favorite thing to do is go for walks with Jack because he lets me sniff and tinkle when I want to. If I walk with Letty, she says, "Let's go Murphy...come on...keep up."  Sometimes I just sit in the shade on soft green grass because it feels good on my tummy. I know they like me  because they rubs my belly and my ears anytime I want. 

Murphy and the rabbits.

Oh, my name is Murphy Doodle and I am four months old. My mama is an Australian Shepherd and my daddy is a black poodle. I think I am important to Jack and Letty because I make them laugh at me everyday. 

click on this link to laugh more about Murphy Doodle

“Keep some room in your heart for the Unimaginable”

Mary Oliver, poet

I DID NOT PLAN...

I did not plan

                to slice my ring finger

                and bloody the dish-washing water, 

But I did.

                So my husband bandaged my finger

                and finished washing the dishes.

I did not plan

                to break a glass vase filled with water

and  ivy plants,

But I did.

                So now my ivy sprigs are potted for spring

                and my floor is mopped.

I did not plan

                On winter staying till April

But it did!

                So now I wait and wait and watch

                for the green green grasses  of spring.

I did not plan

                To dry and comb a wet muddy dog

while in the house

But I did.

                So now the carpets have been vacuumed.

I did not plan

                to break my reading glasses

                hiding under the newspapers

But I did.

                So now I will buy a new pair of glasses.

I did not plan

                to arrive at church on Eastern Standard Time

But I did.

                So I walked around the neighborhood 

enjoying that time zone.

I did plan

                to write all day

But the sun came out

                and I went out to play.

                I am no April Fool.

Feelin' Groovy

How many types have I typed shut this or shut that only to look at the screen and read sh_t.  Like "Cathy" the cartoon character, I scream "Ack!"  Then attempt to laugh at my mistakes (yes, thankful for spell check not auto check), but some days I'm so frustrated with my brain/keyboard connections that I want to throw up the computer. 

From the decades of  motherhood to the present day the erratic search for methods and activities to slow me down has given me insights to: meditation  (no success); refreshing long walks (successful); Tai chi, too slow (no success) but might try it again someday: Yoga (helpful). Hen I realized that singing quietly in my head while playing golf helps me focus and relax outside, so who not use it on the computer. 

Relaxing and letting my mind search for music I began to hum-- 
  Slow down, you move too fast
  You got to make the morning last
  Just kicking down the cobblestones
  Looking for fun and feelin' groovy...

Savannah's cobblestones.

I'm no longer running down the cobblestones, but I am running and moving my fingers over the keys fart to quickly.

Long sigh!  

  


  Hello, lamppost, what'cha knowin?
  I've come to watch your flowers growin'
  Ain't' cha got no rhymes for me?
  Doot-in doo-doo, feelin' groovy

This is retirement, why am I not watching the flowers growing instead of rushing from one task to another?

But rhymes, yes rhymes do help in the form of poetry by Mary Oliver, Nathan Brown, or occasionally Ruth Zardo, a poet of Louise Penny's imagination. 


  I got no deeds to do
  No promises to keep
  I'm dapples and drowsy and ready to sleep
  Let the morning time drop all its petals on me
  Life, I love you
  All is groovy.
Feeling Groovy by Simon and Garfunkel

Bougainvillea leaves floating

Long sigh! Just sitting
Listening to my heart beat
Feeling groovy, smiling
Tapping to the beat.

Eureka! Finally, I've thought of my first "Try Something New for 30 Days" challenge (Try Something New) except mind will be for 28 days.  I will listen to music every day, perhaps a little Norah Jones, Enya, Wayman Tisdale, or simply ripples of musical blends to open my mind to new sounds. 

***All arrows are self-inflicted :):)