Trees are more like people than we often think. They hide so much beneath the ground, just like humans hid part of themselves behind pretending.
Beauty, intricate personalities, strangeness, connectivity, how we and they reach out for each other.
It’s often not until something unwanted, something uncomfortable happens and washes away the dirt, that we get a glimpse of what a person is really like. Sometimes, it’s not pretty. Other times, it reveals amazing things.
Not all buried things are bad or ugly. Even when beautiful there are things that need to STAY burred to grow properly, other things need to be protected for a.
But then, after growth, they need to be pulled up, and out, before we can use them.
I wonder what carrots think when they are harvested?
There is something about the color orange.
It inspires and glows. It’s joy to pull orange things out of the dirt, and pluck them from a branch.
I have always loved the simple things in life. A nice sharp crayon. A heavily weighted paper.
Yet the latter never belonged wrapped around the other, even in my child mind. I would unwrap each individual crayon so that the whole could be used for making my pictures.
As an adult, I am learning how to unwrap my own label and use all of me.
I would also look for the darkest part of the driveway, or church parking lot to scribble out my creations in calk. They just never looked as good on the light gray of normal cement slabs.
Contrast is still important. It helps us see details we would otherwise miss.
The way you look at things makes all the difference. It’s not about changing truths, but seeing what God really intents for each of us. If I believe he has had a plan for me since the dawn of time, then every mark, stain, and wrinkle has been accounted for. He WILL use all of them.
Learning to grow in silence can be hard. Sometimes we think all the action happens when our lives are spinning at a crazy pace. But we still grow in silence. It’s like a child doing most of his growing while asleep.
Or a brain learning when it’s allowed to be bored.
When WE are silent, the world doesn’t stop its own babbling. In the echoes of our human noise, we often miss how our world speaks to us, sings to us, even prays with us.
Maybe it’s because I am getting old, but I breathe better in the quiet.
The Mourning Dove is not a creature I ever thought about before our first homeschool unit last September. There are several pairs that call our neighborhood home, and a few of them even wintered here instead of flying south. Our feeder was a welcome buffet.
Their call is a haunting song of love.
I was captured by the beauty of the European starling in our lessons. Aggressive, invasive in North America, and so aware of its own striking appearance.
I do not need to hide, I am emperor of the skies.
They exude confidence, wrapped in shimmering tones.
The European Robin is much smaller than its cousin from North American. This little guy is fragile and lively.
Curiosity becomes a common trait in generation that live around people, but experience little danger.