ephemeral, elusive, there!

blood root

today was of wildflowers,

the excessive winds of climate change

create havoc within the forests,

trails and roads suffer,

roads close yet we are still able to visit a favorite hollow,

there, early spring shouts with enthusiasm,

as our friends erupt from the soil

and reward our friendship with just being themselves:

yellow and white trillium assert color and form on the slopes,

fringed phacelia delicately carpet wherever they can,

hepatica, trout lily, miterwort, squirrel corn, sing themselves,

wild ginger quietly releases the cupped maroon flower of its glory,

three wild turkey visit this valley

at the same time as we do,

we stop to watch them,

and the male decides to display to us and to his two females,

the early sun backlights his tail feathers,

and I work hard to capture pictures 

of such audacious, gratuitous revelation,

I wonder if he is actually showing off to me,

after our going up, across, and down this hollow,

we get back to our car and slip down the valley

in search of blood root, our favorite flower of the spring,

we check where we found some a few years ago,

at the foot of the valley where the Big Poplar thrilled us,

a few leaves, seeds, maybe a bud, but no blossoming blood root,

until we hike by the road on the way back to the car,

and two blood root reveal themselves with assertion,

knowing and expressing the ephemeral reality

that this botanical royalty

shares so briefly and so elusively,

we cheer our luck.

by Henry H. Walker

March 27, ‘24

each step a challenge

 the way forward

Robert Frost cautioned that life can be like "a trackless wood," 

in which we make our way as best we can,

each step a challenge,

the way forward more of guess than of certitude,

now climate change births ferocious wind storm after wind storm,

trees weakened by the Great Fire and adelgid predation

break spectacularly asunder or just topple over,

the roots no longer holding,

now the way forward on the trail

can often be more of crawling under, of climbing over, obstacles

than of an unfettered step after step,

we live in a time when unexpected new realities

force us to alter our gait, our path,

our understanding of what the way forward might now be,

can we trust ourselves to find the way?

or do we lose ourselves by listening 

to those who do not know, but who speak with authority,

we should trust our senses, our common sense,

and deny control of our steps forward to those

who feel so strongly of wrongness,

how do I get over, or around, this log?

I need to trust what I can know

and judge carefully the paths others suggest,

particularly those who deny climate change is even real,

Gaia is a forgiving mother, but even She can only take so much.

by Henry H. Walker

March 28, ‘24

getting beyond Narcissus

 to window into nature

I love the outside,

I want any room I'm in

to window into nature,

something there is in me

that doesn't love a wall,

I want plant and bird and vista

to draw me out of myself,

just to be within me has the prison about it,

a room can be a box that limits who we are

by showing us our reflection in mirrors 

and in the things we possess,

a favorite spot is the screened-in porch

at our "cabin" in the Smokies,

a creek runs and drops just outside

encased within a copse of dark-green rhododendron

and a bit of laurel and dog hobble,

sycamore, oak, poplar and buckeye

keep company with the strong presence of a beech tree,

occasionally pileated woodpecker visit, as do kingfishers,

one year recently a great blue heron fished 

and graced the creek for a season,

black bears often walk through or dip in the creek,

unlike our neighbor, we have hardware cloth insead of wood

on the first two and a half feet from the floor,

we prefer to see outside,

rather than feel the safety of being enclosed, 

of being private,

I like a roof and to be dry,

I like a house so I can be warm in winter and cool in summer,

yet to me a house is best when it allows body and spirit

to range the natural world,

a meditation I like cautions us:

"in their dwelling they love he earth."

by Henry H. Walker

March 26, ‘24