Willow In The Wood

I was prepared for a wetter and colder climate but even the locals have been talking about the weather and how wet this year has been. Long timers will add that this is what it used to be like before the old days. Honestly it has been raining almost daily for 4 months. I’ve been taking my vitamin D and the fact that my south facing wall is all windows has helped. Sometime in the middle of the third month I remember thinking “OK I’m ready for some sun now.”  I know for certain that I, who took for granted the constant sunny days of southern California, have found a deep sense of gratitude for the sun. It will peak through my window and touch me skin or turn the world outside into something so inviting that I shut my laptop and head outside. Sometimes it’s a race because the sun is fleeting and could be gone behind a cloud just as quickly as it appeared. Sadly my treasure trove of plants that I brought up from warmer regions didn’t do so well even though I bought two grow lights to keep them alive through the winter. I will undoubtedly have to find the varieties that love it here as much as I do.

The promise of spring is just around the corner. On the calendar it is set for two days from now. But for some time now I’ve been noticing the subtle changes around me. The frogs in my little pond were the first to announce the change with their misma犀利士
tched choir of croaks and squeaks. They’ve been busy out there as there are numerous blobs of eggs attached to the water plants. They start just before the sun sets and continue on and off through the night. When I first moved here I would listen to them and be impressed with the volume those little guys could reach seeing as how the ones I had been able to glimpse were about the size of my thumbnail. It was unsettling then when they all became silent at the same time. As I lay in bed I would wonder, what startled them? Is something moving around out there that I should know about? I would get out of bed and move to the window to see. But the forest seems to wrap itself around the darkness and I couldn’t see anything. Was something looking back at me? I’d go back to bed and gather the covers around me while I waited. Soon the frogs would start their song again or the rain would start to patter on the skylight in the bedroom and lull me to sleep.

The crocus my brother planted on the upper trail last June was the first flowers up. Their deep purple blooms almost seemed out of place in the non-stop rain and cold. Others soon followed: daffodil and other bulbs sprang up where I didn’t know they existed before. They must have finished their time before I moved up in May last year. I noticed the first Trilliums the same day as the spiders. One day there weren’t any spider webs to see or walk into on my walks and the next they were everywhere. I learned early to walk with a stick in front of me when I am passing between bushes that a spider might create his web on. Trilliums are so beautiful and are revered by those who know about them. Some say they are sacred. There are different reasons for this. Its flower has three petals and below the flower are three leaves. Three is a very significant number in the Bible. The Indians used their roots for medicines. And the fact that you can’t pick a Trillium but can only enjoy it where you find it may have something to do with its beauty. If you pick the flower will wilt and die. The plant will also die. It will be many years before they grow back. I’ve heard there are tours to search for the Trilliums. Here I am blessed to have them pop up all around me.

I’ve always loved trees. Living in the desert of Southern California, I could never get enough of them. When I drove up to my new home in the Redwoods, the trees took my breath away. Many times since I would find myself looking at them and sighing as I take in their wonder. But in my limited mental vocabulary of trees I always thought of them as solid stable things. But surprise…they move.

I’m not talking about the leaves dancing in the wind although I witnessed leaves looking like a bird on the branch with flapping wings. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. The trunks, that I could not reach my arms around, sway back and forth more than I would think possible. To look out the window and see 50 trees moving this way and that at different rates and speeds is awe inspiring.

They speak too. Sometimes they whisper as in a still fall day when you can hear pine cones popping or dropping to the forest floor. But when the winds rise up the canyons to the ridge, the sound moving across the treetops brings to mind some huge beast about to overcome me. The feeling is so intense that I have to stop and turn to see what it is. But it moves past like an invisible giant letting its hands caress the uppermost branches as it passes overhead.