It is an earlier morning for me, woke up around 4:30 instead of my usual 5ish time- coffee in hand, tea brewing. I think too much these days of all I have to do, and yet when I get off work- I find myself compelled to walk to the woods. Spring is happening everywhere, but especially in the woods- it is erupting daily with good news. Stinging nettle is about six inches high now, the brambles of blackberries reaching two feet and ferns are beginning their slow roll to bushiness. I've looked and looked for the little greys, the mushrooms- haven't found a single one yet, but the night temperature hovered around 49 degrees last night, so this might be the day. That will be my excuse for this afternoon's adventure- high of 73, a warmer night, lots of sunshine, plenty of moisture- I wouldn't want to miss the morel's mysterious pop ups any time now. As I sat on a log yesterday, ever so still- still enough to allow the Spring Peepers to cautiously once again begin their love songs to one another, their chorus filling the air- I thought of words I might convey to express my love affair with the woods. I'm not a good enough writer- can't express well enough what a little bit of woods can do for my wondering soul. The green there, this time of year- is of the brightest quality, it's the kind of green that has a fragrance that mixes well with the rot of old logs- a musk and a freshness intertwined. The trees all around- cottonwoods, river birch, ashes, the three sisters (my favorite respite in the wood)- are bulging with buds that are brimming with the fuzz of life, and soon- the leaves will erupt and make their music with the wind. Then my little bit of woods will become a vibrant symphony, an amphitheatre of noise that plays a newer song- every day.
I placed my hand on the earth several times yesterday, checking her temperature- cold and damp, though feverish in the sunny spots. I looked all around and under every brier bush for the yellow painted turtle that I have met in the past every year at this time. His absence should tell me quick enough that he is still slumbering, not out looking for mushrooms yet, he is wiser than me. But I am hopeful, rushing the time the space and the place where I will likely find the mushrooms, the turtle and I are often at odds over who will get the first one. So, in a nutshell- my excuse for not getting done in the fields what should be done, although I have exerted much energy on the less windy, warmer days in planting- I don't want to miss a thing, a growth, a sound. (And mostly, a mushroom.)
Take care and enjoy the day...
10 comments:
Hey, Penpal! I was going to send a note just last week and I let time slip away.
Lovely newspaper article. Makes me proud to know all of you.
I'll jot something down soon. I promise.
Fran
By the way, my blog is much less thought-proking than this one. But it is mine none-the-less. You can catch up with my family at fran3kids.blogspot.com
Love to all. How's my sweet Emma?
In reading your blog I can't help but wonder how you are honoring, supporting, guiding, loving your living children. And are you sure you haven't let them down or affected them negatively?
Dismiss the above comment, my dear. It's not worth troubling yourself about.
Terry - Listen to Fran. Some people aren't worth worrying about. Whoever said that doesn't know you and doesn't know how what you do is helping your other childen. I'd venture a guess that they also are not in our unfortunate club of having lost a child. Carry on--you're great. From Vivian L.
oh my God, i wandered over sweet true, and was fed, deeply by what you write, how you check the earth's forehead for fever. then i just read the comments, that one just over there that stung the hell out of me, and i'm just a true believer of you. how in the world could it be that your writing poetry, that your being alive to the woods and the world and the stars and the spring peepers could in ANY way take away from your magnificence at mothering? who in the world could write such a thing? my heart breaks for a world that can't see that the pulsing beauty that comes from you feeds all the world, which includes your children. i send blessing, and hope for healing......
As a best friend to Terry's daughter, I would just like to note that Terry is a wonderful mother to all of her children, living or not. She goes above and beyond to assure her children are taken care of emotionally, physically, financially, and spiritually. Her children love her dearly and to Ms. or Mr. anonymous you too would know this if you truly knew this family. Not only does Terry honor Beau but she honors his sisters and brother, they are a family and always will be. I love you all. And to Mr. or Ms. anonymous, such a bold comment but not enough courage to state your name. I'll pray for you. Terry keep doing what your doing, it's an inspiration to all of us.
-Beka Roe.
Dear Beka,
I'll write to you here as I don't know your email, but I will hug you sweet girl, when I see you again. I am honored that you defend me here, deeply thankful. But, I am a big girl, big shoulders, and big of heart. I allow all to say what they think, what they feel- it matters. There are things I do regret when it concerns my kids, they know this, we have spoken of it and trust in our love for one another that we all might make deep changes to enforce that very love. I saw my children experience more pain, more struggle than even I, their mother- could truly put a shoulder to and make better. And many times, I have let them down- - I had to again, deeply look at my decisions, my choices, and go on in a more stable direction for me, for them. Had I not had the kids to live for, I would have chosen not to live at all. But even that, in time I realized- was not enough, just living, surviving the mass dismantling of our family. To pick up the pieces and make some sense of it all was the hardest struggle, one that remains today, and will, I suspect forever- go on. But as Vivian has instructed, as my creator intends- we carry on, with dignity and love, always that great never dying, forever love- that we are left with. (If I did not beleive in that dignity, that love- the very words meant to sting would have done just that. The only One I have to answer to has led me this far and as of this writing, leads me still...) When one of us hurts, we all hurt- when one of us shines, we all cheer. Thank you for being a part of our ever growing family, for encouraging us, for crying with us. You are as dear to me as my own kids, heck- you've been a part of so many celebrations, so many sadnesses- you've seen us at our worst, and still, you remain, and love us anyway. Blessings to you sweet girl, and thank you. Means more than you can know, your words. Take care-
Terry
To the anonymous person who left that comment, they don't know the Terry that I know. I'm not one of her children, but I am family and she's always treated me like I was one of her own. When we lost Beau and I was so upset, she offered to let me stay with her another day after my family left, and she would make the hour and a half trip to bring me back home. I won't ever forget that, a grieving mother who put herself aside to try and comfort me. Terry, you are a wonderful mother and don't even worry about people who are so cowardly they won't even leave their name. We love you.
Rhiannon
Terry, I LOVE the photograph of the trees here...just beautiful!
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