This morning my daughter did yoga in our bedroom. She loved looking into the Mulberry branches that fill the window looking north. I remember the first time the trees seemed big enough to fill the framed view. It was so exciting to have an inkling of shade and life among the trees rather than on a bare hillside.
When I fire the woodkiln I am struck by how far I have come in the years I have lived in the country, now able to identify trees by leaves, bark, interior grain, or seed pods. Recently when I arrived home the green of the Redbud seed pods and the peculiar way they hang from the branch called out as if saying “stay a while.” Over and over again I learn the lesson of the trees, to be filled with light and to shine.
When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”
–Mary Oliver, When I am Among the Trees