Another world

In plant jail

The strange luminous squares are light from the fine netting that protects a few plants. Here the innocent must sit in jail while guilty deer roam around at night munching on delicacies. They have whole forests to graze on but they prefer our favorites. The rose bush, sulky at this injustice only put out one deep pink bud and even it is loathe to open. The still air and mild sun may yet coax it open.

The old stalwart

She is old. Her branches grow at odd angles. One ambitious branch wants to turn into a second trunk. A quirky old dowager, I feel close to her, honor her and try to banish any hint that she may not outlive me. Her bark, the mosses that grow at the foot of her main trunk, even the odd fungi that grow on some of her limbs are old family jewels that no sapling can inherit. They will perish eventually with her, like our trappings, our ideas and fancies. It has been very dry. The soil at the base of her trunk was dusty yesterday when I planted a few daffodils. I added compost and water. Like her acolyte I will have a drink too… a toast of Pino Grigio for the old lady

My Soulmate

I love this tree

She stands at the gate of my daughter’s property on Vancouver Island. She is old and the “tree guy” says she’s on her way out. The white branch fell off during a winter storm.

She has lots of places where bark isn’t growing and the white inner core of her boughs can be seen. But she’s opening up new leaves and keeps on doing her “ tree” thing. At her wide base flowers and moss are well established. The daffodils that were blooming at her roots are over but she’s got plenty of forget-me-nots and sturdy thistles to keep her company.

I sat out in the sun, tempered by a brisk wind this afternoon. I was reading a wonderful book but finally, feeling rather chilly and curious about a raven visiting my tree I went in.

The raven was making a strange call, like a couple of notes on a flute. It was a far cry from Poe’s croak, but my daughter assured me it was his Spring call. Sure enough, he flew off out of the newly green branches of my companion towards the sea. That tree has such spirit. Let her hold on another decade or so.