Monday, 29 March 2010

Pulse & Flow



Suddenly this morning, I looked out of our bedroom window and noticed the first swelling of the buds on the chestnut tree, with droplets hanging from the branches like liquid jewels. I took a photo out of the upstairs window, but the raindrops did not show. I tried again an hour later; still too misty. Then the sun came out and I shot a close-up into the sun - bingo. Truly, the raindrop is there - I know because I tried cropping and enlarging the specific area where it hangs with the sun behind it. And by the time I took this third photo, the buds had swelled even more, tinged with green; fat and sticky; goldfinches alighted within the branches, their feathers glowing in the rain.

Now I had said last night on my other blog that I would be absent for a while; but sitting in bed this morning, looking at the tree, and setting down the poem that sprang to mind, I could not resist sharing this raindrop moment. And why post about trees on a journaling blog? Well this particular tree is special, because it is the first thing I see every morning when I awake. I have written about it so many times: next month I will no doubt post the poem I wrote in April over 30 years ago. That was before I was 'into' photography, and now the Chestnut is photographed and catalogued in pictures and blank verse in all seasons and all weathers.

Eventually, I will celebrate the tree in its own fabric journal, experimenting with techniques, layers and words.

This is the tree as it was last October, the photo taken from almost the same vantage point as today's raindrop image.

Actually, the tree is something of a nuisance! It wasn't here when we bought the house 40 years ago, but the local council thought it would be good to surround the village green with trees; half a dozen or so were planted in the early '70s; but they are forest trees and in summer are now so dense that this particular one casts so much shade we have to have the living room lights on throughout the day. It is still an inspiration however.

4 comments:

  1. It is a magnifiecnt tree. i can see why you are inspired. xJ

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  2. Dear Ann,

    What a lovely poem and story. We have chestnut trees growing on our property, considering I raise them from seeds.

    They grow slowly and not so fast as my Chinese elm, which after one year reach my waist. Soon our property will have no room left for trees and so i have started giving away those that are strong enough. I even send half a dozen California Buckeye Chestnut saplings to England, to a friend of mine and they are doing well, having survived their first winter.

    Wishing you and your family all the very best on this Easter Day Sunday,
    Egmont

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  3. Well personally Ann I can't think what else you could possibly want to post about on a blog but TREES - well I'm pretty fixated since Australia and it doesn't seem to be abating now I'm back! Lovely post thank you!

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  4. I love your tree; reminds me of a BLACK OAK where I grew up....LOVED that tree--spent a lot of my youth in it. TODAY I wish I had a tree-our big soft maple we had to remove few yrs back-rotten inside and it hung over our house. NOW my spruce we planted when we moved here 20yrs ago is taller than me.. tis nice. I had lost your blog for awhile and just today found you again!! KEEP JOURNALING you so ENCOURAGE ME! Hawklady

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