A Gift of Robins

The days are getting longer and the morning's birdsong louder. I am returning to myself after months of clouded overwork. Today I saw the most beautiful sight I've seen for quite some time. Dozens of robins flew in and out of the hollies just outside the window, eating berries, perching on bare branches and drinking from the birdbath. I took photos, then put aside the camera and watched for a long time.

I've been praying for the grace of inner silence, to stop the endless videotape of thoughts about what happened yesterday and speculations about what's going to happen tomorrow. The robins, shimmering in the hollies as they fluttered their wings to balance while reaching for berries and flew from branch to branch, brought that silence.

As I continued to contemplate the robins, a bird with a black mask and yellow-tipped tail appeared out of nowhere. A cedar waxwing! I haven't seen one since childhood in Michigan, I think. The red markings on the wings match the holly berries. 

At work at the church this fall and early winter, I became lost in administration and words. Paper words, electronic words. For months, I failed even to fill the feeder outside my office window. I also failed to feed myself, with time in nature and the garden, time in stillness and observation of the life around me. But the days are getting longer,  and I am returning to the feast. 

Pine Tree Praise

Father Brian Pierce spent years working with the Lenca Indians in the mountains of Western Honduras. One year he participated in a ritual in which the Indians, carrying pine boughs, processed through the mountains singing. They arrived at a church decked with pine boughs.

Father Brian, filled with curiosity, asked the shaman about the significance of the pine boughs. The shaman's eyes became wide and he said, "You mean you don't know?"

"If you listen long enough at the foot of a pine tree, you'll hear the pine tree singing to God."

Autumn Glow

Autumn is long in North Carolina. I especially appreciate that this year. I was glued to my laptop for more than two weeks finishing my thesis while the fall colors infused the leaves on warm blue days.

And now I'm done, and I find fall still here and glorious. The golden-yellow of the hickories dominates our wooded neighborhood. 

You probably won't find a hickory tree for sale in a nursery because they quickly develop long taproots and don't do well in containers. All the more reason to appreciate them if they happen to grace your property.

Dogwoods are as stunning in fall as in spring. Some turn a coral, peachy-pink color, while others become purplish-red. They hold their leaves for a long time.

Camellias are in bloom. I have mixed feelings about camellias. It somehow seems inappropriate for them to bloom when all other plants are preparing for winter. They seem alien - and they are, originating in China. Yet they are lovely in bloom. And deer don't eat them! And they don't mind clay soil! In fact, they grow so well here that sometimes they appear to be fake, with their tough, shiny leaves and scentless flowers.  Here one grows under a hickory in the front yard. It's so pretty that I want to apologize to the camellia for my disparagement.

Since finishing the thesis, I have spent time sitting in the cathedral of the woods.

Dogwoods and a serviceberry light up the garden.

Serviceberry is a lovely small tree that is native to the Southeast. The variety below is called "Autumn Brilliance."

It's too early to start raking the yard. I prefer to wait until most of the leaves have fallen.

Back in the woods, I sat for awhile under a white oak surrounded by hickories. The remaining photos were taken with the smart phone. I keep telling myself I'm going on walks to appreciate nature, not mess around with the camera. But when the light is so beautiful, and autumn is drawing to an end, I can't resist trying to preserve the moment.

The lovely horizontal branches of a dogwood glow red in the afternoon sun.

It's good to have time to spend outdoors again!