Archives for May 2015

The Unfolding

May 27, 2015 by Denise Brake 3 Comments

The last few weeks I have traded my camera and computer for a nail-puller, hammer, and drill. Our screened-in porch is in desperate need of a make-over. The chipmunks have chewed holes in the screens, and the decades of rain have rotted the sills, cross beams, and lower siding. Between the uncooperative weather (rain and cold) and the longer-than-expected time to dismantle the old, the project will be taking much longer than expected. Isn’t that the way it always goes?! Lead project manager was my Mom who is a very competent carpenter. She traveled from South Dakota to celebrate her grandson’s graduation from college and to help me for six days.

May in Minnesota is the Unfolding time. It begins with buds of every style, size, and color–the environment is expectant with the lushness of what is to come. It is exciting and humbling all at the same time. It never fails to amaze me that huge compound leaves and spikes of flowers can begin their transformation from such tiny buds! And the wonder of ferns, hostas, and other perennials emerging from the previously snow-covered ground is so Life affirming!

Maple leaves emerge like wet-winged butterflies, wrinkled and folded. As they mature, they change from a light bronze color to the solid, oxygen-producing green of the chlorophyll packed cells.

Linden tree leaf buds look like tiny bouquets of flowers on gray stems until they unfold to the serrated, heart-shaped leaves.

The Unfolding of the shiny red leaves and flower clusters of the Norway Maple is spectacular! As the leaves mature, the red color fades into green.

Striated Birch buds look like tiny boutonnieres along the flexible branches. The fully developed leaves are glossy green against the white of the birch bark.

The stick trunk of a young Kentucky Coffeetree undergoes an amazing transformation as the rounded buds unfold into long clusters of compound leaves.

Elongated, twisted buds of Virginia creeper vines open to five-fingered, dark green leaves that grow along the ground or climb up trees and other objects.

Oak leaves are one of the last to emerge from their buds. The young leaves are pale green and tender, yet develop into strong, deeply lobed leaves of rich green.

Many of the oaks bloomed prolifically this year with green pompoms hanging from the branches. The leaves on the blooming trees were even smaller and more pale than the other emerging leaves. As the flowers dried and fruit production began (there should be abundant acorns this year), the leaves continued to develop more slowly as the trees’ energy went to flower and fruit production.

Locust trees are late bloomers, distinct in their yellow-green foliage.

The old seedheads of sumac are soon engulfed in the vibrant spring finery as the new unfolds around the old.

In three weeks’ time the Unfolding is dramatic!

In twenty years’ time this Unfolding is no less dramatic, but much more heart-stirring. How can our youngest child be graduated from college?!

Life is unfolding around us, and we greet each day with expectation of what is to come. Often we only stop to reflect when we reach a major milestone or when faced with a life-changing event, and then we wonder how the time could slip by so quickly. Did we savor enough minutes along the way? Did we make the moments count for ourselves and the loved ones around us? It is humbling, exciting, and a little sad as our ten years of being parents to college students comes to an end. We need to let go of the reins–and I am reluctant to do so. The years and decades of my energy going to our flowers and fruit has slowed my development in certain ways but has enriched and transformed my life in so many others. Each one of us–my Mom, Chris and I, the girls, and Aaron–steps into another day that unfolds before us. We learn, mature, transform, respect the old, cherish the gifts, and make way for the new.

For the Beauty of the Earth

May 13, 2015 by Denise Brake 4 Comments

The day before Mother’s Day was sunny, warm, and breezy–a beautiful Spring day! The lush green grass got its first mowing, a sure sign that Winter was behind us. The leaves were still emerging from buds in various phases, some like butterflies fresh out of a cocoon, small and crinkled. The brilliant pink flowers of the Prairie Fire crabapple tree were beginning to unfold.

The apple tree blossoms were in their full glory with some petals floating to the ground making a tablecloth of white around the tree.

A few small irises shimmered purple in the afternoon sun. Isn’t it amazing that such an intricately structured and delicate flower can be encased in such a slender bud?

I love the smell of lilacs! That sweet fragrance, like the smell of a new-born baby, is short-lived, yet invokes such memories and warm feelings.

Virginia Bluebells bloomed in the shade garden, their pink buds maturing into the bell-shaped blue flower.

Flowers for Mother’s Day! What a beautiful gift to all of us from Mother Nature!

The next day–Mother’s Day and Graduation Day for Aaron–was cloudy, rainy, windy, and very chilly. It was a stark reminder that our expectations and hopes for a beautiful day are not in our control. But the Baccalaureate Mass, the friendly, noisy lunch, and the Commencement ceremony were meaningful, bittersweet, and ever so lovely. It was an emotional day for many reasons–endings, beginnings, deep truths, changes, things we cannot control, happiness, and tinges of sorrow. In the midst of the day, I felt a bit powerless–like Life was moving on–and I wondered where I fit in the whole picture as the last of our children graduated into the real world.

The day before, along with the flowers, I photographed our statue of Saint Francis surrounded by sun-drenched ferns. Saint Francis, patron saint of animals and ecology, believed “that nature itself was the mirror of God.” In emotion and powerlessness, perhaps all we can do is pray in gratitude for the beauty of the earth and for peace in our souls.

The Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is discord, union;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled, as to console;
To be understood, as to understand;
To be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

The Crow, the Feather, and Us

May 5, 2015 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

How do we look at crows? How do they make us feel? Often they are feared as symbols of death or signs of bad luck or evil. They are large all-black birds with loud, raucous voices. Crows are intelligent problem solvers who can make and use tools and recognize facial features. They are very social birds who mate for life, stay in family groups that consist of a breeding pair and offspring from the past two years who all cooperate in raising the young, and often join very large groups called a murder of crows. Some Native American tribes view crows as good luck, as wise advisers, and spirits of wisdom.

What is the purpose of a downy feather?

Is it to protect the goose from water and cold as it swims in the lake?

Or is it to keep a nest of eggs warm? Or as a soft place to lay our heads at night? Is its purpose to keep us warm in a jacket or sleeping bag?

We often view the world–people, natural resources, society–only through our own lenses. We see through our ‘own-colored’ glasses, if you will. Are crows evil or wise? Are they scavengers or intelligent family birds? Do feathers function to keep us warm or do they belong only to the goose and her nest? Who owns the water or the oil or the minerals of the Earth?

It’s extremely hard not to see the people and things around us as an extension of our own selves, values, wishes, hopes, and wants, especially when it’s personal. Our human development takes us through that egocentric phase as we learn about ourselves, others, and our environment. But too often we stay stuck in that phase of wanting the world to act as our agent, and it becomes detrimental in the big picture. So how do we combat that urge? How do we progress beyond the ego? How do we live our lives authentically yet have genuine respect for others who live differently or think differently? How do we coexist and respect Mother Earth and her resources–not only for our own purposes, but for the good of all for seven generations into the future? I think we have to view the crow in its Crowness–in its myriad characteristics that range from ‘good’ to ‘bad’. We have to look at people, things, and situations in the same unbiased way. And the hardest of all to accomplish, is to look at ourselves in that way. Perhaps when we stop judging ourselves so harshly, we will see the Crow for who he is, see the Feather for what it is, see Others for who they are, and see Ourselves for who we really are–in all our glory.

Gleanings from April 2015

May 2, 2015 by Denise Brake 2 Comments

When I was in grade school there were two boys who rode my school bus who sat at the back of the bus and talked loudly and used foul words that made me cringe. I thought they were knuckleheads. It didn’t stop me from taking my place at the back of the bus where I would verbally spar with them using words they didn’t know. In fourth or fifth grade, I got a phone call from one saying the two of them wanted to come see me on Saturday. I had absolutely no clue why they would want to come to my place, but after saying okay, I started planning our expedition. A beautiful creek wound around our place in the foothills of the Blue Mountains. It was my wilderness passage–from our long gravel driveway to the huge culvert that went under the Pennsylvania Turnpike and was large enough for us to ride our horses through. The boys arrived that Saturday morning. I stood in my rubber boots, saying we would explore the creek. The beginning of the journey was easy and benign–the babbling creek with rocks and crayfish was picturesque and navigating it went smoothly. As we ventured on, the way got more difficult–briars folded thickly over the sides of the creek. One cannot barrel through such brambles without harm–it takes patience and skill to lift the thorny branches and scramble under them. The boys started complaining and wondered why anyone would do this. And I was in my element–each passage through the creek was an exploration of Nature’s wonders. I told them all about the plants and creatures I knew about. After more than an hour of leading the expedition, we arrived at the waterfalls–my favorite place. Boulders built the four-foot high falls, and the water from the mountains cascaded over them into a deep, cold pool. This was the reward for toiling up and down muddy banks, through the briars, and over the slippery rocks! What a great morning! The boys were tired and complaining and called their mom as soon as we got back home. It was the only time they came to my place.

In the middle of April, my friend Ruth invited me to explore the islands in the Mississippi River below her house. With our minimal snowfall and spring rain, the River was low enough to walk across rocks to get to the islands. Our canine companion Coors was eager to investigate and happily ran ahead of us.

We discovered tracks and made tracks of our own in the mud.

Even the main channel of the River was low, and the water swirled around the sandbars poking through.

Walking the islands was like we were navigating a different world. Tall trees, both standing and marooned, inhabited the island wilderness with no regard for the homes that lined the banks of the River on either side of it.

April is an exploration of Spring. New discoveries unfold with each passing day. Creatures of all kinds can be found at any given time. I was surprised to find two squirrels and a rabbit eating together beneath the bird feeder.

When the sap was flowing from the drilled maple tree, I noticed the yellow-bellied sapsucker spending most of his day clinging to the tree, lapping up the sweet liquid.

On a walk one day, we found a tiny, penny-sized turtle alongside the road.

When we returned to the eagles’ nests, we discovered the first nest was empty. Perhaps the eggs never hatched or the tiny eaglets didn’t make it for one reason or another. At the second nest, we were surprised at how fast the two eaglets had grown in a month’s time! They were nearly as large as the parents! And still we spotted the papa eagle bringing food to the young ones.

The young eaglets were standing in the nest when I first got out of the car, but the mama must have told them to lie low when she saw me. The one dark-feathered eaglet is to the left of the male with its head at the fork of the tree trunk, while the other one is behind the mama.

Early spring flowers trailblazed through April with color and magnificence–first bright forsythia, then elegant star magnolia and furry pasque flowers.

April snow and April rain unearthed Spring among days of sunshine and warmth.

Life is like my first photograph of the Viburnum tree–the present is unfolding right in front of us, grabbing our attention and our energy. But there is so much more beyond the opening of the leaves or the expedition following the creek. I never knew why those boys came to my house–perhaps one of them liked me. We never talked about it again, but they seemed to have a new respect for me or maybe for all girls. What lies beyond or behind the present? The oak and cedar trees are an important backdrop to the viburnum–the woods are deep and wide with discoveries to be made. My expedition up the creek had little to do with those boys and much to do with my past and my future. We decide which tracks to follow and which tracks to make. We navigate life like the River and the creek, watching out for sandbars, sometimes getting stuck, sometimes finding treasures. And each year brings Renewal–often side by side with loss and pain. From our nest of protection and sustenance, we are free to explore, grow, make new friends, and drink the sweetness of life.

Archives for May 2015

Share this:

The Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: