December: The Greenest Month
Welcome to December. It’s a month of irony, I find–the month dedicated to the celebration of light, in which we have the least amount of light. Days so short they seem to end before lunch. Cloudy skies, elusive sun. It’s the month in which winter starts, and ironically the one which is devoted to greenery. I mean, when else do people actually lug entire trees into their living rooms? Behavior that would seem eccentric in May makes complete sense in December. One of the best things about December, whether you celebrate Christmas or not, is that almost everywhere you go,...
Read MoreGuest Photographer Wells Horton
“These dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be. I love the bare, the withered tree, I walk the sodden pasture lane.” –Robert Frost Thanks to Well Horton for another amazing photograph. http://wells-horton.smugmug.com/
Read MoreWitch Hazel: Frozen Sweetness
A little cabin in the woods. Very, very Thoreau. A nice place to hide out and write. Last week I revelled in a writers’ retreat at the Highlights Foundation in Boyds Mills, PA. Anyway, outside my cabin was a gorgeous bush in full bloom. Covered with flowers. What, you don’t see it? Right here. A witch hazel bush. A native species–the best kind for landscaping. In full bloom. Now if witch hazel bloomed in May, it would be totally overlooked by every person walking past, and more to the point, overlooked by any and all pollinators. But the fact that it blooms so ridiculously late in the...
Read MoreAmerican Beech: Don’t Know When to Quit
Honesdale, PA. A day of bright sun at the Highlights Foundation at Boyds Mills, a wonderful writers’ retreat. Sunny and clear, but cold. Almost winter now. The leaves are all off the trees. The winter is coming, the branches are stark and bare. Or not. The leaves of these elegant gray trees just don’t know when it’s time to quit. American Beech, Fagus grandifolia. Why? Like most nature questions,this one has as many answers as there are websites. The trait of keeping leaves after they’re dead is called marcescence. (A word that is surely in the finals of all spelling-bees.)...
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