Tag Archives: trees

Forty-Third Ring

Most of my elders all contributed to instilling in me a healthy respect for trees. I remember with a degree of shame now how Roan and I rolled our eyes (behind her back, of course) as Mother wailed over taking down the dead birch tree outside her bedroom window.

So much more so, I deeply appreciate this, great piece from Stuart Perkins: https://wp.me/p3EzSK-l0

Forty-Third Ring

Halfway through the tedious count my eyes began to cross. I put a finger on one of the wider rings to mark my place.

“Ninety-seven… ninety-eight… ninety-nine.“ I said to myself as I finished counting. “Wow…”

Ninety-nine clear rings. Taking in to account questionable layers near the bark and several areas made uncertain by chainsaw damage, this oak was easily a hundred years old. But for last week’s ice storm it would still be living. Fallen across the park trail, the city had cut the hefty trunk into several pieces to remove the obstruction.

One hundred years.

That would mean a tiny acorn sprouted and began to form its first ring around the time Woodrow Wilson signed the Treaty of Versailles. Perhaps it emerged just as the Grand Canyon became a national park. Or maybe it struggled towards the light as Congress guaranteed voting rights to all women.

A year passed, a ring formed. Repeat. No matter what… years and rings. Years and rings upon years and rings and Amelia Earhart was flying solo across the Atlantic, Franklin D. Roosevelt was elected president, and wind whipped across the growing tree just as it did the flag that flew over the Winter Olympics in 1932.

The same year my father was born.

Passage of more time, formation of more rings. Growth was never deterred. Through the horror of the Boston Marathon bombing or NASA’s breathtaking photos of Saturn, a ring was forming. Even as the extraordinary life of Nelson Mandela came to an end, yet another ring formed, in 2013.

The same year my father died.

From the time it gripped earth as a sprouting acorn until the day heavy ice brought it down, the tree not only survived; it grew. Regardless. This majestic beast existed during years of peace and years of war. From its first to its last, so much happened between the rings.

As a sapling, it was already on its way to grandeur before my father was born and it continued to grow after he was gone. One ring the year of his birth, another the year of his death. All he ever did, and was, happened between those rings.

Touching the center of the cross-section of trunk, I dragged my finger towards the outer edge, moving slowly over each of those circular markers of time. I stopped for a second on the forty-third ring. If my calculations were correct, this one was the year I was born, 1962.

I’m unable to articulate what I felt at that moment. There I sat, straddling the trunk of a fallen tree, deep in the throes of profound thought due to the sight of a jagged circle inside a tree? I pressed my finger tight against that forty-third ring.

It was beautiful, I thought, as I noticed a young sapling growing nearby.

“It’s making rings.”  I said out loud. I glanced back down at the one beneath my finger.

My first.

Somewhere in the sapling will be another.

My last.

But what am I going to do between the rings?

Stuart M. Perkins

 

Advertisements

7 Comments

Filed under Notes from the Apex

More Clarity

17 December 2017:

Same day, same time next year:

 

The heavens declare the glory of God;
    the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Psalm 19:1 (NIV)

 

9 Comments

Filed under photography

Live Show

Strong winds
Trees sweeping skies
Nature’s live show
Stirring imaginations

“The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.” John 3:8 (NIV)

 

Images and verse (except for Scripture) (c) 2018 Eva Lambert for What Next, Behind Roo’s Ruse, Div. Rapture Practice! Pub.

8 Comments

Filed under Latent Poetic Tendencies, photography

A Hazy Shade of Winter

All winter these trees captivated me. Neighbor and I searched, but this was the best angle.

 

Feels like the last firewood load this year.

 

Fog quickly blanketing a hillside in town against the morning chill

 

Late winter textures at the woodpile

 

The Mouser family eyeing NewGirl, the latest addition to the ranch. This could take a while.

“[God] directs the snow to fall on the earth and tells the rain to pour down. Then everyone stops working so they can watch his power. The wild animals take cover and stay inside their dens. The stormy wind comes from its chamber, and the driving winds bring the cold. God’s breath sends the ice, freezing wide expanses of water.” Job 37:6-10 (NLT)

Original A Hazy Shade of Winter by Simon and Garfunkel, but the new mix by The Bangles does it justice.

6 Comments

Filed under photography

DFW Mid December

winter oak

Breezes scatter rain
Fall’s last remnants cling
To gray branches

redbush leaves jmgr

Glad for this weather
Content I can walk
With the fallen leaves
Observe as we go
I am home today
Today

defiant leaf

Salut, Roo’s Muse

Original photos by Roo on 16 December 2015… Seriously.

2 Comments

Filed under Latent Poetic Tendencies