Ink & Penstemon

Christmas wreath 2022. Grand, Noble, and Fraser fir with fruits from a Malus ssp. and Honeylocust pods for accents.

#digitalselfportrait

Asclepias asperula.

Bloom where you got dumped and ignored.

My garden is a place of escape for these times.

Evening homily.

For the first time in a long time, I felt joy today from rain. Depression and sadness has had a hold on me for a long time, as well as anxiety. But I think a corner has been turned. Can't say why as there is a lot to be worried about in the world right now, but seeing this Molly-the-Witch Peony covered in rain this morning fills me with peace. It has been a long time, and I am grateful for my garden.

Been a minute, so here's some springy things.

Christmas wreath 2021 edition. Abies frasera, Pinus sylvestris, and cones from Cedrus deodara. Simple, to the point.

Annual chores aren't so burdensome but important markers on this temporal Highway. I don't view them as a burden as much as I do a centering, or a homecoming. I would consider it a great thing to know that landscapes outlast me with a life of their own.

Reddening tips on this Yucca baccata for autumn color.

Populus tremuloides are aflame in the Uintas.

--Czeslaw Miłosz, 'New and Collected Poems 1931-2001' / Ecco Press

If only Puschkinia scilloides had a literary taxonomic heritage.

This Galanthus is supposed to be S Arnott. But you, snowdrop, are not.

If it weren't for early spring blooming bulbs, I would be in real despair at this time of year. The transition from winter to spring is especially rough for me. I've found enough sources of joy in winter to mourn its passing, and there's enough burden from memory and the past to weigh down on me very, very heavily at this time of year. So I thank God for something as simple as this--a small clump of snowdrops poking up through leaf litter. For the coming rains (hopefully). For a still beating but heavy heart.