“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

3.14.2009

Whispering to Trees

Maggie under the tulip tree.

The sparkle of approaching spring. Hidden these past 3 days behind a curtain of rain & cold, cold weather. Totally unfair of spring to show herself - don't you think of spring as a her? - and then disappear for a bit, but she has done just that, leaving me to prowl through images taken a bit earlier in the year, looking for evidence that she was here. All the blossoms from this little tree are long gone, but there is a white white white dogwood across the street that is absolutely shameless in its beauty, drooping quite gracefully across the creek, and I have vowed to take its portrait as soon as the rain allows. I tried last year to capture it, but failed quite miserably, and I may fail again, but I may not, and that possibility is enough to make me put on black rubber boots and slog through leftover leaves & wet wet just-blooming azaleas and whisper sweet nothings across the water, for the lovely dogwood of which I speak lives behind a fence and I am too shy to ask permission to enter. Although perhaps I will. Perhaps the rain will move away and I will see the tree's keepers and I will find bravery within myself and I will just ask. We wave at each other, these people and I, and yet my shyness holds me back. Perhaps the dogwood is purposely enticing me, wanting me to cross the creek, wanting me close - perhaps the fallen flowers of the tulip tree have skipped across the street and whispered their own sweet nothings to the dogwood, but perhaps their sweet nothings were sweet somethings, and perhaps those sweet somethings have tempted the dogwood to tempt me. It is working. I am tempted.

It will be a weekend of art, of putting paper & paint on canvas. I have a one-night art show scheduled in June, and I am working on a series of paintings - shimmery paintings, paintings about stillness, about quiet, perhaps about whispering to trees. Perhaps about the whispers I get back from the trees. Perhaps I will include the rain.

I will.
let it rain all over me . . .

9 comments:

  1. i need to whisper to the trees...xx

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  2. You should. They will whisper back the most wonderful secrets.

    :) Debi

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  3. i saw your reply on SS beautiful buds and this tree ! I am a north texas blogger too...LOVE this time of the year...(August not so much!)

    I love your space and I will visit more often...ELK

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  4. Yes. Except that I am able to be on the lake during August, and to be in the lake, and finding that cool spot a bit below the surface, where my toes are made so happy! It is still cold today, but the rain appears to be leaving us behind, wet everything in its wake. I am fluctuating between heater on/heater off - as a Texan, you will understand exactly what I am talking about - LOL! Thanks so much for visiting & for the kind words.

    :) Debi

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  5. Stillness. Something I've never really accomplished to my satisfaction. I am a restless soul. Wandering, drifting about the house and garden. Meaning to find meaning. Often finding it as I meander through the rain this morning. Looking for signs that the rain has left me some wet blossoms to photograph.
    Brenda

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  6. Whisperings, wanderings, solitude, peacefulness, calmness.... I find these only in my garden. When my head is full of rushings, nervousness, fear... its out there where I got to find peace.

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  7. i love the idea of you being enticed by a whisper to give up the shyness for a moment, maybe even longer :) you might just do it too... if i were there i would whisper encouragement... i also have the problem of shyness with my camera, whisper to me...

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  8. Oh, I would love to attend your one night art show. I would sit and whisper with you, "yes. yes. yes."

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  9. I understand your shyness...I still have troubles taking pictures of beautiful things in people's gardens from the safety of the sidewalk!

    Oh, and please please include the rain. xo

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