The lives of trees

Three years ago, I visited Chicago for the first time. It was mid-April, and the highs were in the 20s at the start of the trip. My last full day there, though, the sun came out and warmed things up enough for me to linger outside. I came across several tree signs and snapped photographs to share here.

But you know how “way leads on to way.” I wrote other posts, and the tree sign photos sat waiting.

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A fun tree campaign (though the url on the sign no longer works)

A few days ago, I came across an old article in the Atlantic about the importance of trees in urban environments, and it sparked something in my brain. I remembered the Chicago tree signs. Continue reading

“Miss Jean Louise, stand up.”

“Miss Jean Louise, stand up.” Your author’s passin’.

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One of my favorite of Harper Lee’s saddest passages to honor her memory:

Neighbors bring food with death and flowers with sickness and little things in between. Boo Radley was our neighbor. He gave us two soap dolls, a broken watch and chain, a pair of good-luck pennies, and our lives. But neighbors give in return. We never put back into the tree what we took out of it: we had given him nothing, and it made me sad.

Thank you, Harper Lee, for To Kill a Mockingbird and Go Set a Watchman. I hope we gave you better than nothing in return for the gifts you left for us. Rest now in peace.

Birdwatching

The flowers have already appeared in the land;
The time has arrived for pruning the vines,
And the voice of the turtledove has been heard in our land.
— Song of Solomon 2:12

Is it any wonder that a woman who loves trees so much should eventually turn her attention to the birds living and dancing and nesting among those trees?

The last few weeks have brought early signs of spring and a stunning array of birds to the river, including what I believe is a Golden Eagle. I’ve spent countless hours out along the river banks taking photographs and trying to see the eagle again.

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The one time I saw the eagle up close, I had no camera or phone with me. Probably Murphy’s Law in action. When I have brought my camera with me, the eagle is either in hiding or perched across the river, too far for a good, clear photograph.

I’m no birding expert, but I have started learning the names and characteristics of an increasing number of birds. I thought you might like to come along on a virtual field trip with me to see a few of my favorites.

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Praying through Lent

Today marks the first day of Lent, Ash Wednesday. You may have eaten pancakes for dinner last night. You may have declared yourself off Facebook for the season (several Facebook friends bid us all adieu in posts yesterday evening).

In last week’s post, I mentioned that instead of giving up something for Lent this year, I’d be adding something in: prayer. Specifically, I would like to lift up your prayer requests each day.

Some of you have already sent requests to me, and I lifted those up in holy, quiet moments earlier today.

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My prayer journal

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Winter roses

We’ve had a recent cold snap, and though last week I may have poked gentle fun at rainy day behaviors out here in California, I have to make fun of myself this week. I am quickly losing my tolerance for cold.

Monday’s cold weather brought a bitter wind, and all I wanted to do was hide inside—after a morning run, of course. I have to dust off the winter running clothes every now and then, right?

It was cold here over Christmas, too, and when I returned from balmy North Carolina after the holidays, I knew I had to tackle a winter gardening chore: pruning the roses. (Not my favorite gardening activity, I’ll confess.) I left three stems taller than the rest because small buds graced them, and I hoped they might bloom, despite freezing temperatures in December.

One bud finally began to open within the last week. So I cut all three buds to bring inside and finished the pruning chores.

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To me, this is the exact color of dusty rose

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