The sun-powered rush to grow, bloom and reproduce is under full steam now with wave after wave of plants hoisting their flowers up to the wind and/or the pollinators and the eyes of those who are seeing. They tempt with color—much of it invisible to my human eye—and scent and, for the insects, tiny magnetic […]Continue reading “A rush — Still Learning To See”
During frigid February days in Massachusetts, I was happily transported by photos Julie Shaw texted during her brief family vacation in Arizona. Inspired by those radiant images from that distinctly different landscape, I asked her to share some in a post on Pleasures of Plants. Fortunately for all viewers, she responded with the following images, including well-researched enlightening captions and notes.
Until two years ago this tall graceful birch was a welcome landmark of a nearby park, reliable in my routines. When I became aware the birch was gone, I missed it and wondered why it was cut down, but I never sought out answers to that recurring question.
As buds begin on branches, I recall that blossoms, leaves and fruits will reduce the chances for sky and sun to interact with the structure of bare trees. While eyes and iPhones focus on compelling colors and layers of growing green, I’ll lose sight of dramatic or intricate patterns of tree trunks, bark, limbs and branches for the next three seasons. This post presents reminders of what winter trees will offer again as autumn ends.
A few magnolia trees in my neighborhood began to blossom tentatively in late March, followed by a full surge in early April with three bright mild days. Cold winds and rain soon sent many petals to settle, discoloring on the ground after the brief but spectacular displays of distinctly different magnolias. No wet spring snowstorms to weigh them down this year, so they can gracefully give way to other predictably brilliant showings of the season.
An old apple tree and a relatively young cherry in my yard have almost always blossomed simultaneously. These photos are from one day in May almost seven years ago when I tried to record their sudden abundance and interplay.
To follow my own blog rules, I’ve somehow selected seven photos from so many I’ve taken during years of visiting this wonderful community garden, where my family members tend a productive lot. I keep marveling at the dense collection of splendors and and surprises surrounded by city buildings.
I signed up for this slot last year when it showed as a fleeting bonus to my basic blog, Art Outdoors, on WordPress. It promised a solution to my urges to post pictures of plants that did not fit within my own constraints on what to include as art, which ruled out “the art that nature makes” no matter how amazing. Just knowing that the spot awaited was reassurance enough until this November, as the last leaves fell and faded while the prospect of renewed pandemic restrictions rose.