Wildflower Writes

Photo by  Rohit Tandon  on  Unsplash I have a painting on my wall. My son created it to accompany his Bob Ross costume last Halloween. And yes, it has happy trees. And mountains framing a waterfall. When I look at it, there’s something I’ve heard described as homesickness for places one has never been. The German word for it is “fernweh.” I’ve lived in three midwestern states. There’s always been woods to explore, but no mountains. Every time I’ve been on a trip through mountains, there’s a sense of wonder and mystery and curiosity. When I traveled to Colorado on a school trip, I climbed every rock I could. Every time I got to a peak, there was a higher peak to climb. It should have been discouraging, to never reach the top. At the time, it was amazing. I thought I had seen the whole picture, but it was just the beginning, just a limited view of the larger landscape. I used to think the goal was to “have it all together.” I believed once I had reached certain mile...

  Photo by Dennis Buchner on Unsplash Yesterday, I took a walk through the park and was amazed at the beauty of ice and snow-covered trees. It was like a picture postcard, white frosted branches against a gray sky, alongside a fast-moving river, with a few Canadian geese to keep me company. This morning as I lay snuggled in bed and heard the microwave let out a death beep and saw everything go dark, the snow and ice seemed less romantic. A glance out the window confirmed that my building and at least a few surrounding blocks were out of power. Yet, when I rode down a tree-lined street past a wooded property on my way to church, I couldn’t help but feel the same sense of wonder and admiration at the scenery. It was breathtaking. The same storm that caused downed power lines and fallen trees and icy roads created beauty unmatched by anything humanly designed or created. The inconvenience and hardship of no electricity didn’t diminish the goodness that I recognized the day befo...

Yesterday, driving down the street to work, I didn’t notice all the stumps along the side of the road. I knew there was a lot of construction, and the trees had been cut down to widen the road. Their remains had been left, leveled to the ground, for months now. Today there was a big yellow excavator blocking half the street. It was making it’s way up one side of the street, apparently using an arrowhead shaped attachment to dig up the stumps of the trees that had once lined the street. The stumps, turned upside down with roots exposed, were huge, gnarly monstrosities aligned along the road. Sometimes I wish I could see people’s roots. What is keeping them upright? Where have they drawn their strength and vitality from? Did they have to struggle to get what they needed out of life? Do their roots run deep or stretch out wide? Some people are ashamed of their roots, even though they are the basis of who we are. Our ancestors, our parents, our friends, and our faith are all parts of who w...

How does a treeline form? I’m looking at the trees surrounding my kids’ school, and the tops form a fairly smooth line. You would think, with the wide variety of trees, it would be more uneven and choppy at the top. Instead, the line itself rises and falls in a series of shallow undulating waves, with all the trees right next to each other coming up to approximately the same height. I wonder if it has to do with the amount of sunlight available to the leaves. Maybe once the tree grows to the height of the surrounding trees, it no longer has to fight for sunlight. Maybe all the trees were planted at the same time, although my guess is that they were here before the school or the playground. Maybe the slope of the land affects the height of the trees, since it might affect how much water is collected in each place. I’m always thinking. It’s like the little “why” that started when I was a little girl never died. Usually I think about people or relationships or problems. Someti...

I came across some really old papers today- like almost 20 years old! I found some poetry I had written about 10 years ago. Here’s a taste… let me know if it leaves you hungry for more, or running for the door (that rhymed!) Crystal cold Whispers of breath ascend to the heavens Dark fingers of trees against an awakening sky Violet mountains of clouds in the distance Harsh rasp of a dog’s bark breaks the silence Windows dark, streets bare Rubber against pavement in a steady rhythm Her body sings with adrenaline She is awake- she is alive! In a world that is cold and dead A quiet victory