Tag: Mary Oliver

Posted on by Ellen Seaton - No Comments on Bluebonnets and Poetry

Bluebonnets and Poetry

I guess I can no longer deny it. Spring is here. The vernal equinox has come and gone. Everyone who celebrates anything during this time of year has celebrated. What more is there to say? While most folks get very excited to welcome all of the pretty flowers and warmer days, I do not. What excites me is that April is halfway to Halloween! Now that will get me excited! However all of my skeletons are resting right now, so I am giving you my annual obligatory picture of Texas Bluebonnets. There are lots of them this year and they actually bloomed early. While temperatures have reached daytime highs in the 80’s, here where I live, Becca, my niece in South Dakota is still dealing with lots of snow.

April is also known as National Poetry Month. I write very little poetry myself. My muse occasionally inspires me to write Haiku, but that’s about it. However, I own many books of poetry. One of my favorites is Devotions by Mary Oliver. And there are any number of poetry readings and festivals around town all month long. The Women in the Visual and Literary Arts (WiVLA) is holding their annual poetry reading on Saturday, April 22nd. It’s called Poetry By The Bay and takes place at the La Porte Library from 11:00 a.m. — 1:00 p.m. If you are a member of WiVLA, there is still time to sign-up to read your own pieces. Or you can just plan on attending this event to hear the wonderful work created by other WiVLA members. I look forward to seeing you there.

For your literary pleasure, here is a quick poem by Mary Oliver that is called We Shake With Joy:

We shake with joy, we shake with grief.

What a time they have, these two

housed as they are in the same body.

However, if you are like me and are excited that we are halfway to Halloween, I will leave you with this picture. Hopefully scenes like this will hold us over until October returns. I’m already working on plans and stories for the annual Haunted Holidays reading event that will be held in November. I know I am looking forward to it. How about you?

Posted on by Melanie Ormand - No Comments on Ball of Beauty…or Beast?

Ball of Beauty…or Beast?

The sight at the top of the hill caught my eye. 

How many bird’s nests in that tree?

Walking closer, I notice it’s not bird nests I see.

Those are amalgams of twigs, needles, sticks, and gray grassy things clumped together in round balls, all nestled atop bare tree branches.

I walk this path every day, and have for seven years.

How did I never see this?

A second question springs forth: what is this T.h.i.n.g.? 

My writer mind imagines an alien deposit left every Tuesday after midnight. 

Ah, Story begins. I smile.

Four miles and five Siri e‑mails later, I arrive home.

Google informs the mass is ball moss, or tillandsia recurvata. Botanists call it an epiphyte—fancy way of saying it’s a non-parasitic plant that lives on other plants. More bromeliad than moss; a percher, not a sapper. Translation: ball moss sits on tree branches but never sucks away its host.

Some people disagree, claiming ball moss kills every tree it nests.

I don’t care. I see beauty lurking in these branches. This tree carried 45 ball moss clumps. At least where I stopped counting. 

Some nests looked massive, others teeny as embryos. To my virgin-noticing-nature-eyes, each pom-pom appeared glorious.

I looked down and cheered. An orphaned wad lay on the ground. The sticks felt spiky and sharp but strong. The natural world excels. Again.

At home, I placed the ball moss in a vase. Within weeks, it b‑l-o-o-m-e‑d. To my endless surprise and utter delight. Melanie and home-grown flowers = a first.

Our most recent Yule featured ball moss as the table centerpiece. It lasted from Christmas and well past New Year’s Day.

The petals eventually devolved into white wispy things. Carrying them outside one windy afternoon was not a good idea.

I waved them away then realized three things ball moss taught me:

My thumb’s not black.

Growth offers pleasant possibility and an expanded life, especially for a strong ego.

Noticing nature changes a life.

Poet Mary Oliver nailed it with this: “there are moments when the veil seems almost to lift and we understand what the earth is meant to mean to us.”

I’ve held onto this story for three months, awaiting Spring’s arrival. Now, she’s waking up, winking green in our oak trees.

She’s also birthing yellow tree pollen. Which delivers allergy agony.

That’s next week’s blog post. Today, I sniffle, dab my eyes and walk on, watching as beautiful ball moss disappears into nature’s arms.