Catching up with Bird Words 2

Catching up with Bird Words 1

Shortly after I hung up the first round of words - I had to go out and do a second.
My initial choice of paper just couldn't handle spring's final fling with winter.

 A fellow, presumably a neighbour, passed by as I was hanging the words up.
"So what *is* this?" he asked.
"Well," I said, "April is national poetry month...and this is my poet-tree."
"Oh... well so is this a poem?" he said, clearly at once satisfied and at once perplexed.
"Not exactly, but it has a theme. I do it every year. This year it's birds, words about birds, words associated with birds, bird words..."
"I see,  like twittering and diving..."
"Exactly!"
"I wondered if a crazy person lived here or something"
"I suppose you could say you have to be a little nuts to climb a tree and hang words on it every spring."
He laughed and went on his way but I could tell that something about the idea tickled his imagination. And honestly, he did not look like the sort of person who would give a damn about a bunch of words hung in the tree. He looked like the fellows always mixing cement and driving pickups filled with construction material that seem to be in constant motion around here, whether they live in the 'hood or not. He passed by again last week and said -
"Hey, where are all the words?"
"On the tree behind you -but the weather's been hard on them- more are coming soon!"
"Good!"

 

In the Air

It's hard not to associate spring and the return of warmer weather with the renewed activity of our feathered friends. Yes, this April poet-tree is for the birds!

And not just in my yard, this weekend a tree on my brother and sister-in-law' s rural spread spouted a few words, too.

 

In city or in the country, in fields, parks, yards and gardens birds have inspired much art and meditation. This is just a little tribute to them.

Into May and soon away.....

“According to Milton we owe our prickly roses to the Fall of Man. This is an insight shared by others long before his time, for St Ambrose in the 4^th century AD was equally sure that roses are smooth in Paradise, while the Zoroastrians of ancient Persia held that no thorns existed before Ahriman, the spirit of evil, came into the world.

“Unappealing they may be, yet even prickles can be a pretty adornment, as anyone who has seen young shoots on the Wing Thorn rose will know. What these stories illustrate is the abiding fascination with roses that overrides boundaries of time and place, drawing people of many nations to write about roses, to grow them, depict them in all sorts of ways, and above all to love them.”

From a foreword by Peter Harkness in The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Roses, Mary Moody, ed. Headline Books, London. 1993.

A Final Round of Roses

Happenstance.

Butterscotch.

Butterfly Wings.

Rainbow’s End.

Goldfinch.

Happy Wanderer.

Earthsong. Cadenza.

Folksinger. Country Music.

Danses des Sylphes.

Calypso. Satchmo.

Radio Times. Roundelay.

Ballerina.

Café. Pax.

Deep Secret. Smooth Friendship.

Frühlingszauber. Morning Jewel.

Cuisse de Nymphe.

Mother of Pearl. April Moon. Surpasse Tout.

Alchymist. Old Blush.

Love and Peace.

Die Weisse Rose

In thinking about roses, in looking through catalogues and botanical histories for intriguing names, I was reminded of the many cultures and eras where the rose has taken a special place. As a symbol of love, passion, beauty, grace, joy and nobility that is forever embedded in poem, story and song, and featured in art, in perfume and in design, it knows few rivals. This floral élan is so often reflected in the names that people give to the ever evolving plant and blossoms that are the rose. But as the old saying goes,  “Every rose has its thorn…”

Or perhaps in this case, its bittersweet side. 

As a form of resistance during the Second World War, young Germans began publishing leaflets, alerting their fellow citizens that not all was well in the Reich and that terrible acts were begin committed. To publish such material was considered subversive, treasonous and punishable by death. When they were caught, many were executed. Their last leaflet was smuggled out of the country into the hands of the Allies who edited it and airdropped millions of copies over Germany. This group of students and intellectuals was known as the White Rose – die Weisse Rose….

These days also I’m contemplating the limited freedom of speech and expression that many friends, artists, writers and journalists are experiencing around the world right now and the creative ways they are finding to make their position known.

Word petals...
gathered and dried...